Choices
by bluejay
Summary: Set during the "Batman Reborn" arc in the Batman and Robin series. Cheyenne Freemont comes to Gotham with news that will change Dick Grayson's life.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: Co-written with InvisibleBrunette. This was an old idea of hers and I just went along.

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><p>The snow had long melted, the groundhog had seen it's shadow, the six more weeks of winter had just passed and the blooming flowers were giving everyone hay fever. Spring was definitely in the air in Gotham City, and somewhere in the middle of it, Dick patiently waited for the arrival of both his coke and someone he hadn't seen for months - months since she had left his loft in New York and headed for California.<p>

Cheyenne Freemont had called him a week earlier when he had just finished taking a shower. She just wanted to 'catch up,' as she put it. And all at once, thoughts of half-baked excuses to feed Lucius ran out of Dick's head. He may not have known the woman long, but he knew there was a reason behind her call besides small talk. Cheyenne really wasn't one for idle chit chat.

"My my my." The sultry voice was just as he remembered. He glanced up to see the red-head smirking coyly at him as she approached, and he had to blink twice at her attire. Gone was the fashionable woman who strolls through the streets like a runway model who expected to have everyone's eyes on her. Instead, her plain long coat and boots simply muttered 'practical'. It was as if she chose her outfit for the comfort instead of style. And her hair, once long and curling around her shoulder blades, was now waving just below her jawline. It made her look... like a woman who meant business. "Looking good as always, Mr. Grayson."

Dick rose to his feet to greet her, hiding his wariness in what he hoped was a sincere smile. "Same could be said about you. Nice haircut, by the way"

"Thanks" Cheyenne twirled a strand of her chin length hair and took a seat across from him. "I had to shorten it. You can't pull it if you can't grab it." she said ruefully.

Dick raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I.." she hesitated for a second, dropping her gaze to the table. It was then that Dick noticed the dark bruising under her eyes, artfully hidden by make up. But her eyes were clear when she glanced up again. She took a deep breath and plunging in. "I had a baby."

Dick breathed. "Oh wow. Congratulations Cheyenne." He grinned at her, relieved that Chey's lack of sleep must have been brought on by a new addition to her family. But when she remained silent for several minutes, his grin faded into a frown. "What's wrong?"

"I just can't do it anymore..." she blurted, her dark eyes filling up with tears. "The Pierce brothers have tracked me down, I can't put the baby at risk like that, Barry would kill him."

Dick grabbed her hand, his inner worry rearing its brooding head. "You want me to help? Is that why you're in Gotham?"

Cheyenne shook her head. "I'm just going to come out and say it, Dick." She paused again, meeting and holding Dick's eye. Her next words would change his life forever.

"He's yours."

The entire world came to a standstill, and those two words echoed round and round in the sudden silence. Dick could hardly believe it. He was tempted to call it a bluff, a joke of some sort but Cheyenne's face was too serious for any prank. She couldn't act that well, not for a Bat.

But it still left him with the situation at hand: the baby. Cheyenne's baby. His, according to her.

It was like a switch had gone on in his head and his training took over. When faced with unsubstantiated confessions, get evidence. And for news as drastic as this, he had to know. He had to be _sure_.

"I'll have to ask for a paternity test..." _Blunt Grayson, very blunt. _

But Cheyenne neither flinched nor scowled. Instead, she nodded. "I can give you the samples-"

He cut her off. "I want to see him."

She blinked at him at first, then she took a shaky breath. "Alright. But we _have_ to be careful.. If Pierce found him-

"Shh. I know, Cheyenne." Dick rubbed her hand with his thumb. "Don't worry, I'm pretty good at being stealthy."

"Of course," she gave him a wry smile. "How could I forget?"


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: Last chapter and this are pretty much the prologue heh.

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><p>Sneaking into a hotel was as easy as Dick had imagined. All he had to do was go straight in - in disguise of course; he didn't want to chance his being recognized as the adopted son of Bruce Wayne. As long as he kept his head up and sped his steps as though he had somewhere to be, no one bothered him.<p>

Cheyenne had gone ahead to explain the situation to her companion. She had told him earlier the room number she was staying in, refusing to write it down in case it got lost. And now he was standing outside her door, waiting for her to answer. It gave him enough time for the circumstances to fully slap him in the face.

He might have a kid. A son. A son he never knew about until today. It was a lot to take in.

Now he knew how Bruce felt.

The door opened and Cheyenne stuck her head out. "He's sleeping. But, come on in."

Dick entered with trepidation. The hotel room was classy in its decor with muted browns and pastels. He could see one of Cheyenne's assistants carefully packing bottles into a bag on the dresser, Cheyenne herself was handing over several folded clothes. And on the bed...

Because they were constantly moving, his parent's didn't have a lot of material belongings. All the Graysons had was what they could fit in their trailer; no lazy boy, no four post bed. They didn't even own a real camera, just a handful of disposable ones found in convenience stores in whichever town they stopped in, and bought when they could spare the money. Family photos were rare and mostly out-of-occasion, but cherished and kept in a shoe box.

Dick only had a handful of pictures of himself as a baby; Haley's had been making slow profits that season and his parents could hardly spend for clothes, let alone a new camera. But the sight of the little figure sleeping peacefully on the bed brought to the forefront all his memories of those baby pictures.

The same dark hair. The same cheekbones. And the near-delicate jawline that told of a softness matched with masculinity. They were the same features that had the other circus folks warn Mary Grayson that her son would grow up to be a ladykiller.

And they were all on his son.

_His son_.

Oh G-d, what would Babs think?

"Dick?"

His head felt like moving through molasses as he turned to face Cheyenne. She and her assistant were standing in the middle of the room, packed bags at their feet.

"Chey, what-"

She shook her head, giving the baby a sad look. "I can't chance that Pierce might find me here. With you. With him." Her brown eyes shone with tears. "I want you to take care of him."


	3. Chapter 3

Notes: I wonder how many readers will we lose as soon as we introduce this minor OC...

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><p>Alfred looked torn between shock and...dare he say it?...<em>amusement <em>when Dick came home with the baby. _His baby. His son._

It was just beginning to sink in, that he had produced - well, of course Cheyenne had a part in it too - the little bundle in his arms. All the missions involving future technologies, alien planets, random acts of sorcery, and he just did something opposite: he had created _life_. And didn't that sound awesome?

"I hope you do remember that my duties are that of a butler and not a nanny?" Alfred said pointedly, and reality gleefully crashed in with a sharp needle to burst his bubble.

"I know, Alfie. I just...I don't know how to do this."

The old man's eyes softened. "And _that_ is a common situation for new fathers among the world. Come, you will have to learn the proper mix of infant formula before the child awakens."

"Alfie...is this what Bruce... Was Bruce..." he couldn't find the right words to say the awkwardness he felt, the feeling that he was swinging on the trapeze and someone had taken away the rest of the bars and he wasn't exactly sure where to go...

A wrinkled but still strong hand rested on his shoulder. "Master Dick, Master Bruce _never _had to deal with an infant. You were all past toddling years when you came to the Manor."

_Oh. Right._

The same hand gave a reassuring squeeze. "When you came into Master Bruce's life, he was terrified." Alfred stated. "He did not know how to take care of a little boy, even one as delightful as you." That earned him a small smile. "But, with time, he learned." Another squeeze. "And just as he did, you will learn too."

Dick turned a grateful gaze to the older man, putting his own hand over the one on his shoulder. "Thank you Alfie. I don't know what Dusty and I would do without you."

Alfred drew back in confusion. "Dusty?"

"The baby." Dick grinned affectionately at the bundle in his arms. "His name's Dustin. 'Dusty' for short."

The Butler clucked disapprovingly. "An object is 'Dusty', a baby is most certainly _not_ 'Dusty'."

"It's a cute name!"

"Quiet down Master Richard." Alfred lightly scolded. "You mustn't wake Master _Dustin._" For anyone not listening for it, they wouldn't have picked up on the Butler's oh-so-subtle emphasis on the baby's name. Good 'ol Alfie, subtlety is thy name.

Subtlety, however, was definitely not Damian's.

"Grayson!" the boy stomped into the room. "Where have you been? Patrol is only a few hours away and we haven't sparred in preparation because you have been dawdling arou-" Stormy blue eyes darted to the bundle in Dick's arms. "-what are you holding."

"A baby, Damie. I'm holding a baby" his elder brother said patiently.

Damian blinked. "_Why?_"

"Because...he's sleeping?"

In one smooth move that Dick would be eternally grateful for, Alfred stepped in and swooped the bundle out of Dick's arms. "I will handle Master Dustin, Master Richard. The poor boy will be hungry when he wakes up. In the meanwhile, I do believe you and Master Damian need to have a talk."

"But...I..." Dick suddenly found himself reaching for the baby and had to consciously tell himself that Dusty was in good hands. Alfred would know how best to take care of him until Dick learned to do it himself. But the sudden loss of weight in his arms had him staring at the butler's retreating back.

"Grayson?" His youngest brother's voice snapped him out of his stupor.

"Ah, sorry Damie. I guess..." he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, there's something we need to talk about."


	4. Chapter 4

Notes: Minor OC is a very minor OC hehehe.

abbycat: Thanks! InvisibleBrunette and I are very glad you took the time to read our fic :) We hope you enjoy what we've got till the last chapter!

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><p>"He's my son, Damie." Dick told his youngest brother, knowing full well that any attempt at stalling would only irritate Damian.<p>

The newest Robin met his declaration with his arms crossed, waiting for a further explanation.

Dick ran a hand through his hair again, at a loss for words. How do you explain to a kid - who was technically your adoptive father's illegitimate child - that you technically had your own illegitimate child? In his growing up years, Dick had always known other heroes often compared him to Bruce. But he didn't think he'd end up imitating his adoptive father even in this.

"Well, Grayson?" Damian was not tapping his foot. No he wasn't. But it sure felt like he was.

Dick sighed and plopped down on the couch. "After Bruce, Tim and I came back from...from his trip... I went back to live in New York City-"

"I _know _that," the boy snapped. "I also know you worked in the disreputable modelling industry. And-"

"-and I had a relationship with Cheyenne Freemont," Dick interrupted before Damian could recite his life story from New York onwards. He didn't need to rehash _all _of his memories of that time. "She...she came to Gotham a few days ago."

"And?"

"And just today, she told me she had a baby. _My_baby."

Damian harrumphed. "And?"

"And what? Look, it's not like I _planned _to be a father so soon!"

The ten year old blinked. Dick knew that it was the closest to a flinch that his youngest brother was capable of.

"I see..."

Dick regretted his outburst at Damian's soft tone. His brother wasn't at fault here, and he shouldn't be taking out his frustration on the kid. "I really didn't plan for this to happen, Damie..."

"And yet it did." The newest Robin stepped closer and stared down his nose at Dick, his arms still crossed. The eldest found himself staring into unwavering blue eyes that reminded him so much of Bruce.

"I'm giving you fair warning, Grayson." Damian said steely. "This infant will not disrupt our partnership. I'm letting today pass because of unexpectedness but take note," he leaned forward and Dick suddenly imagined Bruce leaning in to intimidate a petty crook, "I will not let another disruption happen."

Message delivered, Damian turned on his heel and stalked off.

The elder of the two was left on the couch, stunned into immobility. Was he...was Damian _jealous_ of the baby? Crap, how was he going to handle _that?_

"Master Richard." He nearly jumped, not having heard the butler come into the room. If Alfred noticed his surprise, he politely ignored it. "I suggest you turn on the news, Sir."

Curious, Dick went to plug in the TV, absently grabbing the remote as he stepped back to watch. There was no scrolling caption below the reporter that told of a breaking news, so it must not have been a crisis that Alfred wanted him to see.

Then the screen shifted to previous footage of a car accident. The silver sedan lay on its roof in the middle of a ravine. Uniformed personnel swarmed around the vehicle, latex gloves and cameras in hand. The footage panned for an overview of the scene before zooming in on the license plate.

Dick felt the blood drain from his face.

"_The police have confirmed that the victim was California designer, Cheyenne Freemont. Freemont is the only casualty known at this point and time. Stay tuned for-_"

The remote thudded against the thick carpet but Dick didn't hear it. _Oh G-d, Chey..._


	5. Chapter 5

Notes: Me and InvisibleBrunette had to do research for this fic... Any mistakes are ours.

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><p>Majority of the uniformed personnel had gone when Batman came on the scene. It was treated much like an accident, a tragic one that claimed the life of an up-and-coming fashion designer. Several were seen to shake their heads in sadness at the waste.<p>

Then forensics found the partially cut brake lines.

The investigation picked up after that. Black paint lines were also found on the side of the sedan indicating a sideswipe by another car. Was it done by accident and was only compounded by the sabotaged brake line? Or was it a deliberate move by someone who already knew of the vandalism? The questions only served to bring up more questions as detectives assigned to the case began their investigation.

Despite the possible murder angle, the case was still ranked as routine and thereby wasn't brought to the Commissioner's attention. A not-so-well-known fashion designer doesn't command the same public notice as say, a movie celebrity. Homicide also regularly dealt with car accidents/murders on a weekly basis; Gotham was never short on crime that kept her police officers busy. There was no need to bring in the big, bad Bat.

And so, no one was expecting the black presence to suddenly appear in the middle of the scene.

"B-Batman?" the officer watching the perimeter was startled into nearly dropping his logbook.

The Dark Knight ignored him. He was too busy cataloguing the evidence: the cut lines, the paint smear, skid marks that trailed the car down the ravine. The day was bright and clear, and Cheyenne Freemont was hardly a clumsy driver. Not to mention the road was wide enough for two trucks to pass side by side, let alone two sedans. No, there had to be foul play present...unless the opposing vehicle's driver was drunk.

"Forensics got samples of everything they could get," the officer said nervously, watching Batman crouch to take his own sample of the paint smear. GCPD forensics lab had suitable equipment to analyze the evidence. An independent investigation wasn't necessary.

"Cheyenne Freemont had an unwanted suitor when she lived in New York." Batman stated, rising to his feet. "Tell Detective Radley to search for her contacts from that time."

"Uhh...sure Big Guy," the puzzled officer's voice followed Batman as the hero disappeared into the night.

-

Dick pushed back his cowl and slumped into the chair in front of the monitors. He had been in a similar position years ago, when Bruce left him behind to pursue his parents' killer. Dick remembered getting angry as Batman sped away without him, becoming even more infuriated when a quick hack into the Crays spat out the name of Bruce's current target: Tony Zucco.

And now it was happening all over again.

His son's mother was murdered and he knew who the culprit was. All he had to do was follow the murderer's trail - starting with the smear of paint taken from the crime scene.

The computer beeped, indicating a possible match.

Dick leaned forward, his hand hovering over the keyboard. One push of a button and he could be on the hunt for Chey's killer. One push, like Bruce did all those years ago. Just one push.

A high-pitched wailing brought him out of his thoughts. Two seconds later, he was off the chair and rushing towards the sound.

"Alfred! What-" he froze on the threshold of the penthouse's guest room. Alfred had the baby cradled in one arm while the other held a bottle of milk.

"Master Richard," the butler turned to face him, "it would appear that Master Dustin is awake."

Dick's eyes dropped to the bundle in Alfred's arms. The baby had stopped crying and looked back at him with blue, blue eyes.

"Here," Alfred was suddenly pushing the baby towards him. "Take him, Master Richard. I believe it's a good time for you to learn how to care for him."

"M-Me?" His arms felt clumsy as he carried the baby. He had held infants before, of course - years of being a member of the superhero community made sure he came into contact with several nieces and nephews - but somehow when it was his own baby he was holding, it was...awkward.

Blue eyes watched him patiently as Alfred guided Dick on how to hold both the bottle and the baby. The butler then moved to gently wipe the tear tracks from the baby's face. But Dusty's eyes remained riveted on Dick even as the tiny mouth worked on the bottle's teat.

"Some would take that to mean he recognizes his father," Alfred remarked, already turning away to... whatever it was, Dick didn't notice. The baby had raised his tiny fists and kept bumping them against his arm.

"Hey Alfred, have I ever shown you my mother's photo box?" he asked, not taking his eyes away from the bundle in his arms.

The butler's footsteps paused on his way out. "No Sir, I don't believe so."

Dick hummed. "Looking at him, it's like looking at those old pictures. But, I still ran the paternity test Alfie..." he tore his gaze from Dusty, eyes landing on the older man. "Does that make me a  
>bad person? A bad father? Wouldn't I recognize my own son?" he asked.<p>

And with those questions, he let the uncertainty, the nervousness, the fear flood into his eyes. Not fear in the sense that the child frightened him, but fear that _he _would let Dusty down, that he would disappoint him. That feeling of hanging on a trapeze bar with nowhere to go still weighed heavily on him.

Alfred returned his gaze with a patient look. "With all those years together, would you consider Master Bruce your father?"

Dick paused, thinking. It had been an old issue between him and Bruce. He was a Grayson and he'd never relinquish anything he had left of his blood parents. But Bruce...Bruce had given him everything a kid could ever want. Money was no object. And he'd lived with Bruce for a lot longer than he'd lived with his parents. Bruce had been his teacher, his partner, his protector.

"Maybe not my real father." He answered. "That's always my Dad. But... Bruce's pretty much a father to me too."

"And so you will be to this child. That you would worry for him is already indicative of a loving father."

Dick gave him a sly grin. "Wow Alfie, that was so cheesy."

Alfred merely gave him a look, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.

Dick's grin turned into a sincere smile. "Full of curdled milk or not, thank you, I needed to hear that."

"Anytime, young Sir," the butler once again turned to leave. "And do change out of the suit Master Richard, it's a wonder you didn't startle the poor lad in that get up." With that, he strode towards the main part of the penthouse, leaving the new father alone with his son.

Dusty was still flailing his little arms, the milk bottle nearly running on empty. When the baby was done, Dick set the bottle aside and tried to remember...

_Oh_.

"So now you're full, you need a nice little burp, right?" He held the baby against his chest, and then gently began patting his back.

It was a new experience for him. He hadn't held a baby this long for years; it was always one crisis after another cutting short whatever respite he could grab. And now he was working double duty as Batman and as the Wayne heir (even though he was only busy concocting excuses on why he hasn't taken on more responsibility with the latter.). He wondered yet again how Bruce could juggle leading a double life with finesse.

And just as he thought that, the phone rang.


	6. Chapter 6

Note: I know I'm supposed to update everyday, but work has been hectic recently...

BookJunkie: I'll try to update regularly. Shouldn't take a week in between chapters :)

Luvit: Thanks for the review! As for the summary, InvisibleBrunette and I didn't want to give anything away by saying Dick gets a new addition to the family. It brings a certain expectation that we didn't want to bring up. But we're very glad you still took the chance on this fic and hope you'll still enjoy reading this right to the end :)

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><p>It was Babs on the line, asking about Cheyenne's accident. And it felt as if a veil had lifted and the situation came crashing down on his head again as he suddenly remembered: <em>she doesn't know yet.<em>

"Babs, listen-" he cut her off in mid-report of how the police investigation was going, "-there's something I need to tell you. I-"

"What is it, FBW?"

He hesitated. He had already discussed - well, got lectured actually - about the baby with Damian. How hard could it be to tell your close childhood friend you had a son?

The answer was: very.

"Dick? Are you alright?" Barbara's voice snapped his attention back to the conversation.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine..." _Smooth Grayson._"Um, could you stop by? I need to talk to you."

Babs agreed, promising to stop by later, and hung up.

Dick let out a long sigh, and turned his gaze to the baby, who slept contently with his little head resting on his father's shoulder. "Well kid, I've got some 'splainin' to do, huh?" The infant gave no answer. Not that he had really expected one. With another sigh, the new father made his way back to the guest- no, to Dusty's room. He had gone out to the hallway to answer the phone, still holding Dusty. For a few moments, he'd forgotten he'd been carrying his son.

There was a nest of blankets in the middle of the bed and Dick gently set Dusty down in the center. He carefully surrounded the nest with several pillows to block the baby in case he got fussy in his sleep. In lieu of a crib, he hoped this would be enough.

_Mom did say I was a fussy sleeper, _he thought with a rueful grin. He set the room's intercom to monitor the room before leaving. He still had to prepare himself for yet another awkward conversation.

Babs arrived half an hour later, and it was almost as awkward as when they met in civvies for the first time.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" she asked, rolling her chair to a stop. She was smiling gently, and Dick wanted to tell her to forget it; that it was a false alarm and he just wanted to see her. He didn't want to have to ruin her happiness; to be the one to erase that smile off her beautiful face. He's done that often enough.

But he couldn't ruin Dusty's happiness either. And if he was going to raise this little boy, he was going to need help.

"Babs, I..." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to tell you..."

"Just tell it to me straight." She was still smiling. Dick wanted to take a picture and preserve that smile forever. He couldn't do it.

He was about to tell her something, anything but the baby when said infant decided to ruin his plan by squalling.

Babs' smile faded. "Dick. What was that."

He gave her a pained grin and said, "Dusty." Then he ran for his crying son.

Wayne Tower had a set of connected intercoms, so in every room Dick could listen into Dusty's room when the baby next awoke. It was a good thing he did, because when he reached the room, he found Dusty struggling against the blanket that had twined around his legs.

Dick quickly untangled the crying baby and lifted him to cry against his shoulder, hands rubbing soothing circles against the baby's back as he murmured, "It's okay, Dusty. The blanket won't hurt you. Don't be scared now."

It took a few minutes but Dusty's crying gradually weakened before stopping altogether. When Dick turned his head to look at him, Dusty was already fast asleep and drooling on his shoulder.

_Guess I'll have to remember to get a napkin over my shoulder when carrying him._

Once he was sure the baby was deeply asleep, Dick set him back down on the bed and rearranged the blankets, tucking the edges underneath the pillows so it wouldn't entangle his son again. But when he turned to leave, Barbara was by the doorway.

Her face was expressionless as she wheeled her chair forward, stopping a couple of feet away from the bed. She was staring intently at the baby as if scrutinizing his every feature. Then she looked at Dick and her voice was both empty and suspicious.

"Dick. Is this what I think it is?"

Dick dropped his arms and confessed. "Barbara, this is Dusty. My son."

Her lips thinned. She nodded towards the hallway and Dick took that as a cue to leave the room. When they had entered another guest room and Dick had shut the door, Babs burst out with only one question:

"So who's the mother?"

Dick winced. Of all the questions she could have asked, she had to pick the most difficult one. But he had to give her an honest answer if only to keep a lie from biting him in the ass later. "Cheyenne Freemont."

Babs answered him with silence.

It was maybe at that moment the reality train made a stop in his brain, or the fact that he had just cradled his son for several minutes, or even just the stress of the entire situation crashing down on him, but when he saw the look of betrayal and disgust on Barbara's face, he couldn't handle it. He'd already hurt her several times over the years they'd known each other - even if he didn't mean to in some instances - but he didn't, never wanted to be the cause of the pain hidden in those green eyes.

And now he did it again, without meaning to. Now he was that pre-teen sidekick again, looking up at the older girl who was taller than him and was giving him a patronizing eye. It didn't matter if he had been training for months, or that he had more experience than she did. She was looking at him now as she did then, and finding him wanting.

And he...just...cracked.

"What, Barbara?" he snapped. "We weren't together at the time, hell, we're not together now! Did you think that I would live like a monk? That I would pine away in my little corner waiting for you to take me back? I've loved you for so long but every time I think - no, _you _think that we're getting somewhere you keep pushing me away. How long do you expect me to wait?" Dick panted harshly in his anger. The rage that he'd bottled up for so many months ran roughshod over his throat. Guilt raised a hand for attention but he quickly squashed that. Now wasn't the time to feel guilty. He met her green eyes glare for glare in silence before he took a deep breath, then began speaking again. "It's too late now anyway. Dusty is here, and he's my son."

He took another breath. His next words weren't shouted; they weren't even heated, nor did they hold the last vestiges of his anger. They were simply, tired. It was like his balloon burst and left him with empty air. He couldn't summon even an ounce of rage. "Either suck it up and deal, or don't," his shoulders slumped, defeated. "I honestly don't care anymore."

The baby whined in displeasure in the other room, spurring Dick out of the room.

He didn't turn around to see Babs' expression. He didn't need to. Babs' silence spoke plenty. She didn't even follow him to see what was wrong with Dusty.

The baby's eyebrows were scrunched together in a frown, his little arms flailing in the air. His blankets were rumpled but the edges were pinned safely in place. It was clear though, that Dusty needed comfort.

So Dick reached over and gently smoothed the thin hairs on Dusty's crown. He began murmuring nonsense, hoping that his voice would help his son calm down. He didn't even know what he was saying, but he kept his voice low and soothing.

Finally, the baby's arms fell back and the lines on his forehead faded into peace. Dick smiled to himself.

A quiet squeak from the hallway alerted him to Babs' leaving but he ignored it. He'd felt Babs' presence from the doorway ever since he started comforting Dusty but she didn't speak up nor make herself known. So he respected her unspoken wishes and focused all his attention on his son as she watched, like the all-seeing all-knowing Oracle on the job - just watching.


	7. Chapter 7

Notes: Still hope you enjoy reading this fic :)

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><p>"Grays-!"<p>

Dick whipped around to cover Damian's mouth with his hand, firmly ushering the boy out of Dusty's room. He took a final glance back at his sleeping son before shutting the door. When he was sure he had made Dusty's sleep as un-disturbable as possible, he finally turned back to Damian - and Damian's fuming scowl.

"I do not appreciate your method of pushing me out, Grayson." Damian's tone was quiet. Deadly quiet, like he was about to skewer you with a sword and was calmly telling you exactly how and where he was going to do it.

"Sorry, little D," Dick backed off carefully, his eyes not leaving the boy's. Damian when irritated resulted in scathing replies. Damian when ticked off usually meant blows would be exchanged. And it was often a little difficult to distinguish when the new Robin would waver between irritated and angry.

Speaking of which, the boy was still staring at him with arms crossed. Waiting. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Are we not going patrolling tonight?"

Dick could only blink at the boy's question. "Uhh, that is..." he glanced back at Dusty's room but Damian suddenly grabbed his wrist and started dragging him to the Bunker. "Damie, wait! What are you-"

"I warned you," the newest Robin snarled, pulling him close. "You may have found new duties as a father but I refuse to let you forget your _other duty_. Let Pennyworth handle the infant _now._"

"Damian, I'm Dusty's father! I can't just-"

The newest Robin's smolder never wavered and Dick thought it might be best to let the kid have his way, this time. It was now obvious that Damian was jealous - though whether of the time Dick would have to dedicate to raising Dusty or that he was more fond of Dusty, Dick wasn't sure. But he was certain it wasn't because he was more affectionate towards the baby. Damian didn't appreciate his affectionate gestures after all.

"Meet you in the Bunker in five," he told the boy with a sigh. It was nearing time for patrol.

Alfred was putting a tray of dough clumps in the oven when Babs dropped by.

She spoke without greeting the butler, "I've lost him, haven't I?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Miss Gordon," he gently shut the oven door and set the timer. "Lost whom?"

"Dick," Babs sighed and wheeled herself closer. "I've lost him," she stopped by the kitchen counter, slumping in her chair.

"Now, I highly doubt that. If I know Master Richard, he would be in Master Dustin's room right this instant."

"Dustin." Babs repeated with a laugh. "And Dick shortened it to _Dusty_."

"I would give the poor child some dignity and refrain from calling him an unbecoming name." Alfred sniffed, tearing a louder laugh out of Babs.

But the laughter died quickly and she found herself staring at the empty baby bottle in the butler's hands. "Need any help?"

"If it pleases you," he handed over the bottle and a canister of baby milk powder.

She was measuring the powder into the bottle - Dick wasn't the only kid she used to babysit in her teenage years - when Alfred spoke again, "It remains a choice, Ms. Barbara."

Her hands stilled. "What choice?"

"Whether to see this situation as a sign of Master Richard's betrayal, or an opportunity to be together. Things can only be a hindrance if you let it."

"Hey, Alfred, can you watch Dustin while-" Dick suddenly poked his head in, pausing in mid-sentence when he spotted Barbara. "Uhh.. Hey Babs." he deliberately turned his gaze to the butler. "So, Alfred, will you watch Dusty? Damian and I are going on patrol."

"Certainly, Master Richard."

"Thanks, Alfie. Uh, bye Babs." There was a pause in Dick's footsteps as he left; Babs knew it was to take a final glance at her but she refused to look up and meet his blue eyes. Her thoughts were swirling and it was all she could do to keep it inside, to keep her emotions in check, because she knew one glance at those bright azure eyes she grew up with would break the dam she'd been building. So she shook the baby bottle until finally, Dick's footsteps faded into the hall.

"That boy," Alfred sighed, "I know I taught him better on how to treat a houseguest."

"Don't, Alfred," she choked, feeling her eyes water.

"Miss Gordon?"

She raised a hand, swallowing down the beginnings of a lump in her throat. She won't cry now, not when this wasn't the worst that life had given her. Not when this wasn't the worst hurt _Dick_did to her.

"Dick...you idiot..." she whispered to herself.

"A lesser man would agree," Alfred's hand was on her arm. "But a lesser man wouldn't see that this is between you," he smiled patiently, "and Master Dustin."

She looked up at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I simply mean, that this is a choice of whether the baby is a hindrance or support. What you see of this child is entirely your decision." He smoothly turned back to his midnight snack preparations. "In the meantime, would you bring up the baby milk formula you have just made to Master Dustin's room?"

* * *

><p>The night wore on and the worst the Dynamic Duo had to face was a drug den raid. Even then, GCPD was already there so all Dick and Damian had to do was make sure the drug runners didn't pull any surprise shootings. Dick had only managed to wave at the officers before Damian was swinging away for their next bust.<p>

He followed after his youngest brother - because really, Gotham just wasn't prepared for a solo Damian yet. They stopped on the top of a high-rise office building. Robin had already whipped out a pair of binoculars and was dutifully scanning for suspicious lurkers in the city's dark alleys.

Dick stood next to his partner, leaning over the waist-high parapet to scan the street below. This high up the cars resembled brightly colored matchbox toys that ran along predetermined road tracks. Most people would be feeling dizzy being so high, but not him. He'd been defying gravity from almost the time he was born and heights had never bothered him.

"It's a quiet patrol," he told Damian. "Let's call it a night, Robin."

"So you can go back to your infant?" Damian's tone was nasty, the same tone he used when there was a particular criminal he didn't think much of. But then, Damian doesn't think much of _any _criminal at all.

"His name's Dustin, Robin. You can call him Dusty."

"No names while in uniform."

Dick sighed. He definitely wasn't going to get any polite conversation out of Damian tonight.

* * *

><p>Later that night, Damian stood at the doorjamb of what was now the infant's room, scowling. As per Grayson's wishes, Batman and Robin returned to Wayne Tower early. Gotham was enjoying a rare, slow night of crime and Grayson took advantage of it. Damian watched the man change out of the suit as soon as he stepped into the penthouse and made a beeline for the infant's room. Several minutes later, Grayson came out with a wistful smile on his face and headed for bed, leaving Damian alone at the penthouse.<p>

He honestly could not understand what was so wonderful about a smelly, drooling, all-around_ disgusting_ creature. And how could Grayson love it so _much_ after just meeting it.

Silently, the young boy strode into the room to get a closer look - not that he was interested or anything - and discovered that the baby was not asleep like he had originally thought. Dusty's innocent blue eyes gazed upon his uncle with fascination while chewing on a tiny fist.

Damian's scowl intensified ten-fold.

The baby seemed to find the expression funny, giving the ten year old a wide, gummy, smile and a giggle.

"I am hardly funny, infant" Damian spat.

Dustin's grinned widened, and he reached chubby hands towards the older boy.

"Please" The ten year old scoffed. "You are a disgusting creature, why would I pick you up?" True to his word, he didn't pick the infant up, but he did stick his hand within Dusty's reach, letting him grasp his hand with tiny, drool covered ones. _Disgusting._

"What is it about you?" Damian asked quietly. "What is it that draws him to you; love you, even though he's just met you?"

Dustin was fully enthralled with playing with his uncle's fingers.

"Why couldn't my father love me, the way Dick loves you?" the ten year old sighed, then gently pulled his hand away, leaving the room as silently as he entered.


	8. Chapter 8

Luvit: Okay, I might as well tell you that yes, Tim will be showing up :)

BookJunkie: More intrigue and drama coming up! :)

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><p>The next morning dawned bright and much too early for Dick. The sound of the curtains being pulled aside registered just a half-second before the sunlight did, grabbing him out of the cocoon of sleep.<p>

"Alfie..." he groaned, shoving a pillow over his face to block the sun, "...wut time ish it..."

"Half past nine, sir."

Dick grumbled, pressing tighter on his pillow, "Wake me at noon..."

"I'm afraid not, sir. You have a visitor. Someone by the name of Detective Radley."

Yesterday came to him in a rush; seeing Cheyenne, arguing with Babs, Damian's jealousy, _and meeting Dusty._

"Dusty!" he was awake and out of bed in an instant, barely hearing Alfred's amused chuckle. "Alfie?"

"Master Dustin is already awake and fed. Your visitor however, is patiently waiting for you in the living room. Please do remember to dress first before you leave the room."

Dressed, showered, brushed, and as ready to face the day as he'll ever be, Dick found the Detective examining the family pictures on the mantel.

"Detective Radley?"

The detective jumped back, startled. Apparently, he hadn't heard the younger man enter. "Oh, erm. Sorry, Mr. Wayne."

"It's Grayson." Dick inwardly winced at the name and went over to shake the detective's hand. "How can I help you?"

"Have you watched the news recently? Involving the...car accident?"

"Oh, yes of course." Dick knew what the detective was talking about. He, as Batman, had practically sent the cop to himself. But he pretended to be clueless about the 'accident's' circumstances. "I take it this is about Cheyenne?"

"So you are familiar with her?" The detective had brought out a notepad and a pen and was scribbling a couple of brief notes. Dick also knew the notes were most likely observations about his answers and his reactions to the questions - he had gone through the police academy in Bludhaven after all and note-taking was a valuable lesson in the fight against crime.

But Dick also knew that he can't let the detective know about his other life. "Yes, I knew Cheyenne. I was one of her models for a time."

"I see," the detective nodded, scribbling on his notepad, "how did you meet Ms. Freemont?"

"I met her at a bar one night. And when I found out who she was, I went to her office to...uh, talk."

"Just talk?"

Dick nodded. "Just talk."

"And what happened?"

"Her assistant saw me and dragged me into fitting. She didn't even give me time to explain that I wasn't looking to be a model."

"Stroke of luck," Det. Radley commented with a smirk, jotting down more notes. "Is there anything you can tell me about Ms. Freemont's associates in Manhattan? Any enemies you could think of?"

Dick rubbed his chin, pretending to consider the question. "Well, other than the entire fashion industry? It's like a school of piranhas there with all the cutthroat rivalries."

"So I've heard. Go on, Mr. Grayson."

"Cheyenne did have an...unwanted suitor back then."

"Oh?"

"Guy named Barry Pierce. She went on a couple of dates with him but that's it. And I think he's been looking to get back at her for rejecting him."

"I see." The detective made more notes and Dick could see him underline something twice. He suppressed the smirk that was threatening to quirk his lips - he had just pointed the police in the right direction to solve this case. Det. Radley looked up from his notepad. "Anything else?"

"No, can't think of anything."

"Alright." The detective nodded, pausing to look over his notes again. "When was the last time you saw Ms. Freemont?"

"Err," he hesitated, debating with himself how much information he was going to offer the cops. His being Batman, or even Nightwing for that matter, was far from in danger of being exposed in this case but he didn't want to risk Dusty's life. In the end, he decided to tell the truth. "Yesterday, at a coffee shop in town. She'd called and asked for a meet."

"Meet about what?"

Dick took a deep, calming breath. "Cheyenne and I were intimate before she left for California, and she...she got pregnant. Yesterday she arranged for me to meet my son."

"And she never told you about him until now?"

Dick nodded, his throat tight with grief, with hurt. He understood Cheyenne's need to keep Dusty a secret; but that didn't mean he wouldn't be hurt by it. As things stood now, the first five months of his child was lost to him. But he won't let the next how many years of his son's life get away from him.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Grayson." Det. Radley looked sympathetic, and maybe he was. The detective might have suffered some kind of loss in his life but Dick hadn't been able to research far into the cop's personal files. In between being Batman and taking care of Dusty _and_ explaining to his family, yesterday just seemed like one emotional upheaval after another. With the cop's visit, Dick doubted today would be any better. He still had to tell Tim.

Det. Radley cleared his throat, his hand shaking his pen in nervousness. "Uh, mind if I ask, where is your son now?"

"In his room. Sleeping."

"Ah," the detective smiled in relief. Dick guessed he feared whoever murdered Cheyenne might have an infant held hostage. "And how's that coming along?"

_Chaotic. _Dick thought. But he aimed a smile at the detective, "It's...coming. I'm not exactly prepared to be a father now but...I think we're getting the idea."

"I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Grayson." Det. Radley's grin was nostalgic and sincere, almost as if he knew what Dick was talking about. Was there something in his personal files that spoke of a death and a sudden fatherhood? "Going back to my question, so Ms. Freemont arranged to introduce you to your son?"

Dick nodded, "She was staying at the Red Crescent. I had to...enter the hotel in secret as she was scared someone might connect me to her."

Det. Radley frowned. "So even before you met at the cafe she was afraid for her life?"

"Yes. She was afraid someone was after her. So she came to Gotham to..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "She wanted me to take care of Dusty. It was the last thing she did before she headed back to California."

"I see. Do you know who else was with her?"

"She had an assistant with her at the hotel..."

Det. Radley flipped to an earlier note. "That would be Trish Edgwood, her assistant for going on seven years?"

"Trish?" Dick shook his head again, frowning. There was an alarm bell tinkling in his head and he realized Batman would be doing a lot of research soon. "No, Chey told me Trish had the flu and was staying behind. I don't know the name of the woman she was with at the hotel."

Det. Radley glanced up sharply. "Are you sure? The woman we talked to after the accident introduced herself as Trish Edgwood. She was pale, had black hair, and a butterfly tattoo on her collarbone?"

"That's not Trish. Trish doesn't have a tattoo; she never had time to get one."

The detective flipped his notepad shut with a slap. "I see." There was an intrigued gleam in the detective's eyes as he rose to his feet and held a hand out for Dick to shake. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Grayson."

Dick shook the cop's hand and watched as he turned to leave. There was something he forgot to tell him...something about Dusty and Pierce not knowing about the baby...

"Wait!"

Halfway to the foyer, Radley looked back at him.

"If it's not a bother," Dick rubbed the back of his neck, "please don't mention Dusty to the media. Cheyenne was afraid for his safety and she probably had a good reason to be."

The detective tapped his forehead in a mock-salute, "We'll do what we can, Mr. Grayson."


	9. Chapter 9

Note: If it wasn't work, it's a house chore. Planning a meal to cook for the family is dang confuzzling .

Luvit: The entire 'mystery' thing is my fault. I love mystery. And action. And adventure.

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><p>That afternoon found Dick engrossed in the Bunker's Crays. Det. Radley's reactions had made him curious for the man's personal life. Normally, he wouldn't bother as it felt like an invasion of the man's privacy but he was really, really curious. And if he admitted it to himself, he needed to know that other people had had this kind of situation dumped on them...and made it through. He needed to know that he'll be alright - and that Dusty would be alright.<p>

The Crays beeped and Dick pulled up the blinking file. It showed Radley in his standard police picture, lines of text beside it enumerated his bio-data. Dick knew the usual basic facts that went in those lines. He knew they barely scratched the surface of who the police officer was. So he went on to look through the man's family relations.

_Wife: Deceased. One son, 2 years old._

Dick smiled to himself. He was right. Radley did have a child and was raising him on his own. But did the mother leave the boy with him unexpectedly or had he known early on that she had his child? Dick dug a little further.

He found the boy's birth certificate and did a little math for the detective's age and the mother's pregnancy stage. He also found the wife's hospital records. And then he found the wife's death certificate and a visitor's login sheet. A picture started building in his head: Two years ago, Mrs. Radley filed for a divorce because she felt her husband was neglecting her. She was two months pregnant when she left. In the year they'd been separated, she was diagnosed with cancer and was given a low chance at life.

A couple of months in the hospital, Radley visits his dying wife. He comes back regularly, sometimes with an infant and sometimes alone. Dick guessed this would be the time Mrs. Radley told her husband about their baby, but whether the detective was surprised at the news or not, only the couple would know. Dick decided he'd gone far enough and closed the files.

As far as he was concerned, Det. Radley had done well by his son. Dick had to have faith that someone normal, put in the same situation, could rise to the occasion and nurture a loving child. He had to have faith that if Bruce could do it - heck, even Roy did it! - then he could, too.

But for now, he now had another case to investigate: the fake assistant.

Cheyenne hadn't told him anything about the girl she was with. All he had was the girl's description, a butterfly tattoo...and an advanced facial recognition program installed in the Crays.

It was easy enough to hack into the Red Crescent's security system. In between Oracle and Red Robin, the Crays was powerful enough to hack into practically everything.

"Grayson!" the shout flew across the Bunker, bouncing off the various equipment and came to a quivering rest in between Dick's ears.

The new Batman turned from his research to face the latest Robin, eyes questioning. "Something wrong?"

Damian stalked towards him from the door leading to the rest of the penthouse, his young face livid. "I have given you leeway to get over the surprise of your new infant but _that_ was yesterday and you have not sparred with me since. I demand that you do so _now_."

"Damie, I-"

"I refuse to let you sully my father's name with incompetence! And I refuse to let you patrol if you have grown too _rusty _to fight crime!"

Dick sucked in a breath as his partner's words sunk in. If he were someone else, he'd be offended and start _teaching_Damian who was boss in this partnership. As Robin to his Batman, the boy shouldn't question his motives, nor could he order Batman around. Damian was getting too overbearing for a partnership.

But he wasn't someone else. He was Dick, the last Flying Grayson, the first Robin, and Damian's older brother. He heard his brother's words - and he knew what it meant.

_"I won't let you go out on patrol to be killed."_

Dick stood from his seat, and towered over the ten year old. "Listen, I don't know how you figure you're the one calling the shots in this partnership, but you're not." he spoke slowly and sternly. "_I_am the one with more experience, so don't you think I know what I'm doing, and that I know how to do it?" He moved closer to the boy, then knelt down to his level, forcing the boy to look him in the eye. Blue eyes met blue eyes, clashed, parried, and came to a draw.

"Besides," the new Batman gave his youngest brother a soft smile. "How could I be hurt if I have you watching my back for me?"

If he had been talking to any other kid, that last statement would've earned him a smile. Damian, however, was not any other kid. The ten year old jerked his gaze away with an annoyed 'T-t' and stomped over to the gym equipment, leaving Dick in the dust.

* * *

><p>Why did he keep coming in here? It was just a stupid baby. Nothing interesting. So, why?<p>

The ten year old crept over to the crib once again, and simply looked in. Unlike the previous evening though, the infant was deeply asleep.

Damian rolled his eyes, unable to see why Oracle had deemed this 'cute'. In all honestly, the infant looked like a red-faced bundle of needs with not an ounce of usefulness. It was a needless burden on Grayson.

But the image of too-large blue eyes and a gummy smile came to his mind. He remembered how the infant instinctively curled its fingers around his.

He snorted quietly. "I suppose you aren't _entirely _bad."

"Thought I'd find you here," Grayson's footsteps was light as he entered the room. It still wasn't light enough for Damian not to hear him. "Alfred noticed you've been dropping by on Dusty from time to time."

"T-t. I was merely checking on the infant."

Grayson smiled, reaching out to brush a hand over the infant's head. "We're not in suits now, Damie. You can call him Dusty. Or Dustin if it fits you."

Damian refused to honor that with a sound. There is no way he will call this infant by its name. Not when it takes too much time out of-

Grayson's hand landed on his shoulder. Damian glanced up, frowning in suspicion when the man twitched as though he was tempted to give him a hug. Damian hoped the man wouldn't give in to that temptation. Assassins don't hug. Neither should vigilantes. Hugging and other signs of affection are a waste of energy.

"Suit up," he blinked at Grayson's sudden command. "We spar in two minutes."

"And your research?" he asked tentatively, half-fearing that the man would go back to solving the infant's mother's case and half-hoping that the man actually meant to spend time with him now.

"Crays'll take a couple of hours for results. We may have one of the most powerful computers in the world but it still needs time to look through billions of faces."

Damian smiled then dropped it when Grayson started to grin in response. "Two minutes. Do not be late."


	10. Chapter 10

Barbara came into the gym half an hour into their sparring. She watched them at first, inwardly commenting on their movements. She remembered how Damian sparred with Dick early on: his blue eyes stared intensely, a thin line forming between his brows; the boy was a picture of concentration as he attempted to anticipate Dick's moves. It wasn't the best tactic in dealing with the first Robin.

Oh no, when it came to fighting Dick, predicting isn't the way to win. The former Boy Wonder was _born _to move. He's been trained from a very young age to fall, to walk the tightrope, to _fly._ Bruce's martial arts training and his years of crime fighting only helped in reinforcing those earlier skills. Coupled with the fact that Dick had always been impulsive - there was simply no way to predict Dick's next move, not unless you were psychic.

And Damian was learning it. The line between his brows was gone now. His eyes though, retained that same intense stare as he watched, parried, and watched again. The newest Robin was figuring out how Dick's subtle muscle twitches showed what he was going to do next.

And Barbara knew those twitches. She and Dick had grown up together, spending the nights of their childhood fighting side by side with Batman. They'd also shared numerous kisses and touches over the years. She still remembered how he shuddered when she laid a kiss over the pulse point on his neck. She also remembered how his blue eyes darkened with lust when she trailed her fingers down his stomach to his...

She grabbed that thought and stuffed it into a box in her mind labeled, 'To think about later.' Then she went back to watching.

Dick had swept Damian's feet from under him, but the boy easily flipped backwards, thrusting his staff to tangle in Dick's legs to make the older man lose his footing. But Dick had seen the thrust and shoved his own staff to block it. A quick angled swipe and the staff was now aimed at empty air instead of Dick's knees.

It was a good move for Damian. One that Dick was obviously proud of by the grin on his face. It was one of the things Babs loved about Dick. What woman wouldn't fall for his boyish looks, his lithe, toned body, his blue, beautiful blue eyes? But Barbara saw more. She saw those eyes look at her with nothing but want in them. She saw that smile reach over and wipe away the dark thoughts in her head. She missed that smile.

The moment was shattered when Alfred came into the gym.

"The news, sirs," was all he said.

It was a long-abandoned office building. Its roof had collapsed during the quake and the owners didn't have enough funding left to repair the whole thing. And so the ruined building stood among the other ruined buildings in downtown Gotham collecting debris and passing homeless. Supposedly, someone rich enough to buy the lot it stood on could demolish the whole thing and erect a new high-rise, competing with the other high-rises in the business district. But no one cared enough in downtown Gotham. No one wanted to build a pretty building in a place where people loved to sully pretty buildings.

With the current news and a jaded point of view, one would think, 'At least the new owners wouldn't have to pay any demolition fees.'

"Four casualties," Dick murmured, watching the news report of the building explosion with a trained eye. "Several homeless were using the old Rheinson for shelter. They could've simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"In the middle of Downtown where criminals hide." Damian agreed beside him. Thoughts of further sparring were gone from both their faces. "What did Pennyworth find interesting in this instance?"

"The rental car parked by the side street, of course." Alfred replied.

Dick turned questioning eyes at the butler. "The rental?"

"You had it flagged as one of the vehicles that could have run down Ms. Freemont's car."

The former Boy Wonder was gone before anyone even realized he moved. Barbara gave an exasperated sigh at capes and their enthusiasm before following him into the Bunker.

She found him by the Crays already running the rental's plate. Of course, what else would a detective superhero do with a clue dangled in front of his nose? But she knew he'd be needing her help before the night is over. It had been their roles for years: he as the investigating cape and she the research goddess. She sighed again and rolled to a stop in front of the monitor. "What have you got?"

"The car was registered under a fake alias," he replied, eyes roving the monitor in front of him. "No surprise there. But thanks to Bruce's files, we know that alias is frequently used by one John Casey," his fingers continued clacking away at the keyboard.

"That name sounds familiar." Barbara said thoughtfully, her photographic memory already sifting through the myriad of names in her mind. As Oracle, she'd been witness to hundreds of names both criminal and cape. And while she may not have the processing speed of a computer, she retained just as much, if not more so, information as one. And she had enough experience to associate which was the right information needed at any given time.

But in this case, computer processor beat brain power. "He has a rap-sheet as tall as Clark. Money laundering, battery, domestic disputes, you name it." Dick pulled up Casey's mug shot as well as several police files. "In the more recent years he's been a hit man for some small time gangs."

Barbara quickly scanned the files. "If they've got all that on him, why isn't he in Blackgate?"

"Nothing stuck, apparently." Dick sighed. "Somehow, this guy has been getting off some serious charges. And the only explanation to that is-"

"He's got friends in high places," Barbara finished for him. "But the six million dollar question is: Who?"

"That's what I want to know." Dick stood from the rolling chair, every bit the Dark Knight as the original. Then he ruined the image by tossing her a smile and a wink before turning on his heel to the costume vault, his voice ringing clearly through the Bunker. "Batman and Robin are going to find out. Damian! Suit up!" 


	11. Chapter 11

Notes: Was sick for the past couple of days. I think I'm on the mend...sort of. Ah well.

BookJunkie: Glad you really liked that last chapter. Things are still intriguing on the fic hehehe.

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><p>"Why all the interest in this case?" Damian demanded as Dick sifted through the rubble that was once the Rheinson. Arson investigators have cleared the scene and attention to this area had already faded hours ago. It was a perfect time to conduct his own investigations.<p>

"Not now, Robin," Batman said in response to his partner. "I'll explain in the car."

"I know it concerns the infant," Robin grumbled, "but you look too worried for this to be a simple murder case."

"It _is _a simple murder case," Batman paused to look at the boy. "But the perps we want aren't so simple."

"I see."

"Later. I'll explain to you in the car. Right now, we have scum to track down."

The next hour or so has the Duo searching through piles of broken cement blocks and exposed steel beams. Just as Dick suspected though, there was nothing to show in the way of evidence nor clues as to who caused the Rheinson to explode. His mind silently supplied the image of two brothers standing in the middle of the wreckage but Bruce's training quickly shoved that image away.

_Evidence,_ Bruce told him once, _without evidence, all you have are assumptions._

_And without evidence, there can't be any convictions, _wrote the police manual.

Dick gave an inward sigh and stood up. He turned his head to call Robin when something white flashed at the corner of his eye. It was a piece of white fabric; torn, stained and dirty with soot but the stark color still peeped through in patches. The fabric could have been from a passing gawker or one of the uniformed personnel who swarmed the scene but Dick knew it for the evidence it was.

Because it was pinned under a debris pile that was practically at the epicenter of the explosion.

Dick could almost feel the grin splitting his face. "Robin. Bunker. Now."

* * *

><p>Alfred was waiting for them when they returned, his stance expectant. "I take it you boys stumbled upon something?"<p>

Dick shook off the pang of trepidation he felt when he first saw Alfred looking at them - how many times had the butler given him that same look when he made some mischief and couldn't put it past Alfred? With one look, Dick found himself confessing his prank of the day.

It was different now though, and he triumphantly held up part of the fabric he found, already sealed in a plastic evidence bag. "If I'm right, this can put either of Chey's murderers in the Rheinson explosion."

"That's wonderful," Babs commented blandly as she rolled in, "but how would you connect them to Cheyenne Freemont's murder?"

"Still working on that." Dick replied dismissively. He was already strolling for the lab area of the Bunker and beginning the process of analyzing the fabric. "This might be the evidence we need to break the case."

"It sounds too easy." Damian announced. His arms were crossed as he glared at Dick and the microscope the man was adjusting. "From what you've told me, Barry Pierce was too careful to casually leave pieces of his clothing behind. And even if he did make a mistake this once, what you have is circumstantial at best."

"He's right, Dick," Babs spoke up. "And I'm sorry to say, but you've hit a dead end if that cloth is all you've got going for you."

"What do you mean?"

Babs rolled towards the Crays and started punching a few buttons. "Autopsy report just came in. One of the bodies found in the Rheinson was John Casey."

"And?" Dick leaned close, his tone half-excited, half-dreading as though he knew this was the break he was searching for but at the same time fearful that it would be snatched away from him. Babs didn't pull any punches and commanded the Crays to display a picture of the body taken from the scene.

"Meet the late John Casey."

And hope faded so quickly it barely left a ghost behind. Dick now saw what Babs had seen when he first came in holding his precious fabric: John Casey was wearing a white polo shirt when he came into the Rheinson, and that fact was written in the police report for all to see.

In the back of his mind, he could see Barry Pierce laughing at him while holding a champagne flute in one hand and a blonde floozy in the other. And outside the window, Chey shouted at him for his failure. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "So they'll get away again..."

Barry Pierce's laugh drowned Cheyenne's wordless screams and Dick barely noticed Babs continuing to type at the Crays. He was Batman now; he should have connected Pierce to the murder in a couple of hours. Bruce could do it. Why couldn't he? He'd failed several times as Robin, as Nightwing, and now as both Batman and Dusty's father.

"Don't give up the ship yet, FBW," she murmured, pulling up a couple more files for the Crays to display. "Barry Pierce may be too careful to leave evidence in crime scenes. But he's not too careful in how he deals with his contacts."

Dick's head shot up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. "You mean...?"

Babs smiled at him. "John Casey. Arrested a couple of months ago but was bailed out by a wealthy benefactor. His cellphone records, retrieved from the telecoms company despite the man's unit being burnt to a crisp, also show frequent calls made by a certain number. The man's finances also reveal several large cash deposits despite his not having a real job."

He stared at the screen for the next few seconds, his eyes darting back and forth as he speed-read the data she pulled up. And when he was done...

He spun her chair around and clutched her to him, declaring, "Babs, you're the greatest!" Then his lips were crushing hers.

Their breaths mingled. It could have been a minute. It could have been forever. But when he pulled back from the kiss, Babs opened her vibrant green eyes and stared at him in wonder. Dick felt his heart skip a beat. She looked so beautiful... His arms were around her, just as hers were around him, and he was grinning widely down at her because he'd found the greatest treasure of his life. And somehow, the world seemed that much brighter.

The sound of a throat clearing shattered the moment. Babs wheeled her chair back and Dick's arms flopped dejectedly to his sides.

"t-t. That's _vile_, Grayson." Damian scoffed. His arms were crossed, and he appeared to be looking down his nose at them.

The former Batgirl and Robin just rolled their eyes.

"We must be getting back to patrol. You can get back to your 'activities' later." Without another word, the ten year old strode back to the Batmobile.

"He's right, you know." Barbara said, her green eyes twinkling with merriment.

"About the patrol or about being vile?" Dick grinned innocently.

The red head laughed and gave him a light shove. "Go Batman, your city needs you."

He rushed to the door but paused and glanced back at her, his earlier joy floating away on a high-flying cloud. He was almost afraid to ask, but knew he had to; so he poured all his emotions into his eyes and pleaded with her to understand: _Will you still be here when I come back?_

And she smiled at him. "Go. We'll talk later."

Hope and joy came blazing back. He grinned at her unspoken promise and left.


	12. Chapter 12

Notes: Still slightly sick. But getting better!

Luvit: Dick and Babs fluff is cruel? Err...how? Anyway, I'm still glad you like the fic. InvisibleBrunette and I have been tearing up tissues in frustration just to finish lol. As to our favorite character in the Batman comics or DC in general? I thought it was kinda obvious, lol: Dick Grayson.

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><p>It was a trail of contacts: middlemen, negotiators, agents. Dick doggedly followed them; from the sleazy loan shark all the way up to the crooked finance executives. It was...a lot of mileage.<p>

"Are we any closer to this criminal mastermind you're too cowardly to confront?" Damian demanded beside him, arms crossed and lips turned down into a pout. "We have been chasing his footprints for hours."

"First of all, Robin, Barry Pierce is not exactly easy to find. We have to follow the trail of breadcrumbs that will lead to the gingerbread house. And second of all," Dick tossed him a challenging look, "who says I'm scared of Pierce?"

"Your fairytale analogy is pitiful."

"But you have to admit, it fits the situation."

"T-t."

Dick reached over a hand to ruffle Damian's hair. "Barry Pierce isn't easy to take down. As long as you-"

Robin slapped his hand away. "He needs to concentrate to use his metahuman abilities, I know. I read the files, Grayson."

"And Buddy Pierce?"

"He cannot be allowed to lose his temper or structural damage is assured."

"Good. And Cheyenne Freemont?"

The ten year old sent him a glare. "Your whor-"

"Damian!" Dick cut off his younger brother's insult. "You will not speak about people like that. _Especially_your nephew's mother. Got that?" The boy mumbled something, scowling. "I can't hear you."

"Yes _sir._" Damian spat the word out like it was poison.

They drove on in silence. Dick didn't really want to scold his youngest brother, but Damian was going too far with insulting Cheyenne. It was one thing to insult someone when they were far enough away they couldn't hear you, and another when they were dead and couldn't fight back. Dick had heard his own share of offensives against his parents when Bruce had him in that preppy school. He could chalk it up to rich kids wanting to have a taste of power so early in life...but it still hurt. Even years later, it still hurts to think about. Dick wouldn't let Damian go on in this way once Dusty grew up. No, he had to nip this streak in the bud.

"Look, Dami," he sighed, "Chey is..._was _a nice person. A good one. She may have hidden her powers out of fear, but...when it counted, she was right there beside me, helping. Her lifestyle may have been frivolous but she had the strength to overcome her fears and help."

Damian grunted in reply, still sulking.

Dick mentally sighed again and tried to think of another way to soothe his brother's ruffled feelings and bring his point across. How did Bruce manage to soothe _his _feelings when he was ten and he was told not to go all Robin against his preppy, insulting classmates?

Oh right, he didn't. _Alfred_did.

Alfred was the one who sat him down and told him about 'young men and their not knowing where to put their fists.' And with a mug of hot chocolate, Alfred gave him advice on how to go all Robin on his childhood bullies: not by fighting back, but by _evading_. While it wasn't as satisfying as feeling his fists meet flesh, all that practice had helped make him faster and more alert on the streets with Batman.

But that wasn't going to help with Damian, was it?

"Dami-" he began, but Damian cut him off.

"It does make him my nephew, doesn't it?"

The boy's voice was soft, softer than Dick expected and almost rueful. It was like Damian had just come to a conclusion that he didn't want...didn't _dare_ to believe in. Dick wasn't sure whether it was a _good_kind of conclusion or a bad one. He decided to risk it. "Yes Dami, it makes you an uncle."

Damian nodded and there was no response from his side until a few minutes later, "What does an uncle do?"

Dick stared at his youngest brother for a moment before driving forced his eyes back to watching the road. An uncle? His parents being 'only childs' themselves, Dick didn't exactly have an uncle...

But he did have Uncle Ramon the sword swallower, Uncle Harry the clown, Uncle Petre the strongman...and Uncle Clark.

He found himself smiling as he remembered Uncle Clark - _Uncle Superman_- and how Damian wouldn't appreciate his being compared to the Big Blue in any way. The new Robin didn't share his mentor's admiration for the alien. Damian takes after his father that way.

"An uncle can be a playmate. A best friend. A trusted babysitter." He ignored Damian's snort of dismissal and continued. "He can also be a favorite adult, except in your case you're not an adult yet."

"Get to the point, Grayson."

"Alright. In many ways, an uncle is like...a second father. Only, you're not raised by him. So you can still complain to him when your parents are being unreasonable."

Damian turned curious eyes at him. "Who did you run to when Father was being unreasonable?"

"Other than Alfred?"

"Yes."

Dick grinned. "Superman."

"T-t. The Kryptonian?"

"Bruce calls him the Big Blue Boy Scout sometimes." Dick mused, then shook his head. Whatever other nicknames Bruce called the rest of the League, they don't matter right now. "Anyway, you're already acting like Dusty's uncle, you know."

Damian gave him a sceptic look from the corner of his eye. "Explain."

"You've been watching over him while he sleeps. And I think he likes you."

"That is merely your imagination, Grayson."

"So I just imagined him smiling at you?" Dick gave him a smug grin.

Though he denied it later on, Damian's cheeks turned red. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't deny it, Dami. I've seen Dusty smile at you once while I passed by." He reached over and ruffled his brother's hair only to have his hand slapped away yet again.

"This is not the time for jokes, Grayson!" Robin hissed. "We're after the trail of a murderer and you wish to talk about your son?"

Dick let the smile fade from his lips and exhaled loudly. "Sorry, little D. I just..." _Didn't want to think about the case; that the murderer we're chasing is the one who had my son's mother killed._

He drove on, barely paying attention to the passing buildings. _Now I know how Roy felt when those HIVE wannabes shot Cheshire. And now I also know how Bruce felt when he went after Zucco for me._

_Because now I'm coming after Barry Pierce. For Dusty._

"You're right, Damie." the new Dark Knight patted his partners head, much to the boy's chagrin. "Let's get back to work."

"Of course I'm correct." Robin grumbled. "And you did not answer my first question. Are we any closer to your mastermind?"

Dick kept silent, thinking. To be honest, Robin was right and they had been chasing shadows all along. The Pierce brothers could be out of the city and Gotham's jurisdiction by next week, at this rate. Even his tip to Det. Radley wouldn't extend to more than a few days. If he was going to catch Barry Pierce _and _make the charges stick, he had to take the fight to the brothers.

And then, there was also Trish. Chey had told him back at the Crescent that Trish was sick. The redhead had to resort to getting a new assistant instead for the trip to Gotham. Chey didn't bother introducing the assistant to him and he, overwhelmed by the sight of Dusty, had forgotten about her. It was an oversight Bruce would've taken out of his hide if he'd known. But it was too late now; all he could hope for to identify the assistant was the Crays' processors and the chance that her picture would be recognized.

And what about the _real_Trish Edgwood?

The thought brought him up short. Trish had been working for Chey for years. The news about the designer's murder should have prompted her to start calling people asking for police reports, accident reports, anything. There was even a chance Dick would be receiving a call from her. But there was nothing. And Det. Radley mentioned the assistant had been using Trish's name.

Had the police followed up on her? There'd been no updates to the report other than the autopsy or Babs would have mentioned it. And Dick would be too busy keeping his nose on Barry Pierce's trail in Gotham.

Which left only one person available to help.


	13. Chapter 13

Luvit: InvisibleBrunette and I are very, very glad you like our fic. We hope we still got your interest until the end chapter :)

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><p>Dick decided to leave off the trail at around three in the morning.<p>

As much as he wanted to keep going, Batman and Robin weren't supposed to be out in broad daylight, and any more attention to the Pierce's brothers trail would make them all the more eager to leave town. Or, it could make them all the more eager to stay and challenge the Dark Knight.

As she promised, Babs was still at home when Dick and Damian got back. But instead of the penthouse, Dick found her still in the Bunker, engrossed in her research.

He pulled the cowl back and ran a hand through his matted hair. "Babs?"

"I've almost got him," she muttered without turning away from the screen.

"Who? Pierce?"

"_Yes_." She hissed. "He has several companies that look legit to the auditors but not to the eyes of Oracle."

He stepped closer to look at the monitors. "What do you have?"

"His income and expenses match up in the books. But I didn't want to believe that, so I hacked into his suppliers' books. No match."

"So he's been doctoring his own books? IRS wouldn't like that."

"IRS is too busy combing through the multinationals and big name celebrities, the Pierces just slip through the cracks." She spat. "Tax dollars at work."

"At least now we've got him." Dick said with a hesitant smile. When Babs got worked up on a case, she'd often lash out at whoever was close. And right now, he didn't want to be the recipient of that abuse, not when they'd almost patched up their latest fight.

As if hearing his thoughts, Babs took a deep breath and let it out slowly, rubbing her eyes as she carefully turned to face him. "Dick. You're thinking about Dusty, aren't you?"

Dick nodded slowly, expression still guarded.

"I am, too." Babs sighed again. "I'm thinking about how unfair it would be to blame him for being born, or for being your son."

"Babs, I'm sorry-"

She held up a hand, halting his half-formed apology. Dick didn't even know what he was going to apologize for.

"Look, you and I, we're still going to argue. I still don't see us being...well, 'us.' But for Dusty's sake..."

"I'm not looking for a mother for him." Dick interrupted. "I just need..."

"Need what? Dick, I won't be a nanny and I outgrew babysitting for a decade. What do you want me to be?"

"I...er...how about..." he grinned sheepishly, "Auntie Babs?"

Babs snorted in disbelief. But he kept grinning at her until she relented. "Fine. I'll be Aunt Barbara. Now if you'll excuse me," she turned her chair towards the Crays and started typing. "I have a pair of criminals to catch and you have some people you need to talk to."

He sighed and left her to her work knowing that once again, their relationship took second place after the job. But that wasn't fair of him; he'd had the same priorities ever since he was nine. So he shoved that line of thinking out of his head in favor of more pressing matters.

He still needed to call Tim.

* * *

><p>"Batman to Red Robin. Do you read?" Dick asked, one hand pressed to the ear with his comm., the other having been turned into an object of Dusty's amusement. The baby sat propped up against his father, happily pulling and playing with Dick's fingers. He had gone into Dusty's room without changing into civvies and found the baby awake.<p>

Dusty grinned at him, tiny arms eagerly reaching out. Dick grinned back and quickly scooped him up into a sitting position but the baby didn't want to relinquish his hands anytime soon. And so Dick found himself reaching for the cowl's earpiece instead of the phone as he had planned.

When Red Robin's answer came, it was a terse, _"I read you Batman. What do you want?"_

Dick inwardly winced at the reminder that he and his brother still hadn't patched things up. But he kept his tone blank and businesslike. "I have a favor to ask. It's case related."

"_I'm listening._"

"I need you to look up someone for me."

* * *

><p>Trish Egdwood's apartment was very well-kept, Red Robin noticed as he slipped inside through the window. It was also quite spacious. It could easily have had a family of five living there and still have plenty of room. The main living room sported a modern chic look, with glass top tables, and black leather couches with metal framing; all standing on light colored hardwood flooring. The handful of paintings were of tasteful abstracts that detracted from the bare, neutral papered walls.<p>

There weren't many picture frames though, maybe three or four maximum. And all were of her and Cheyenne. Either the assistant didn't have family, or she hadn't kept in touch with them. That in itself would considerably lessen the amount of people who would miss her if she suddenly disappeared.

Tim had checked the security cameras; finding out that Trish's car was still in the carport and had not moved since she came home a week earlier. She also had not re-emerged from her apartment since then either.

Both pieces fit the alibi given - that she was sick with the flu - but it didn't sit well with Batman or Red Robin. Tim had setup his own surveillance and watched the apartment since last night. It was possible that Trish was only sleeping, as most would be in the throes of sickness, but it didn't seem right.

There were no lights; from a lamp, her television, or even the fluorescent bulbs overhead. And thanks to the equipment he had set up, he knew that here had been no movement what-so-ever during the day as well. Things were definitely not adding up, and it was making the vigilante seriously doubt the story Cheyenne Freemont had given his older brother.

Red Robin moved silently to the front door. The chain and deadbolt were locked from the inside. No sign of anyone trying to force it open. Under the cowl, the teen's brows knitted. Trish was here. But the silence the dwelling gave off said otherwise. No flickering light bulbs, no squeaking bed springs to indicate shifting, no nothing.

Something wasn't right.

He cautiously checked the apartment's four rooms, leaving the main bedroom for last. It would fit that the assistant would stay in the main bedroom majority of the time she spent in her apartment, but Tim didn't want to leave any surprises behind his back.

The other rooms were empty of residents, though the decor was similarly chic and minimalist. Tim noticed every room had thick curtains that blocked out light coming from outside, and that the window glass were thickened to prevent noise coming in. Trish Edgwood valued her privacy a lot.

Finally, he was standing by the shut bedroom door. Well, there was no help for it, he had to check the main bedroom if he hoped to solve this puzzle. He reached out a hand to gently twist the knob.

His nose twitched as he caught a whiff of something foul - something that reminded him of...  
>He kicked the door open, unleashing the foul odor he'd smelled. Tim fell back, clutching a hand to his nose before he remembered to slap on a rebreather. The smell was unmistakable. Trish Edgwood was dead.<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

Note: So I couldn't get this one out on time 'cause apparently I couldn't login.

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><p>Dick practically collapsed on the couch as soon as Tim told him what he discovered.<p>

"First Cheyenne, and now Trish too?" The eldest Wayne brother buried his face in his hands, letting out a breath that reduced him to a bent pole. "The Pierce brothers have to be stopped."

"I'm not gonna argue there," Tim agreed, slouching in an armchair and watching his older brother with concern. "We could interrogate some of the local hitmen..."

"No," Dick shook his head. "It'll take time. Barry could be coming after Dusty next."

Tim frowned. "Dusty? What's a Dusty?"

The eldest brother blinked at him in confusion, a moment before it dawned on him that he hadn't told his younger brother yet about the recent news.

"Not a what, a _who._" He fluidly rose to his feet, all signs of his defeat now gone. He grinned at the younger. "Follow me, I'll introduce you."

At first, Tim's face was curious as Dick held the baby out for him to carry. The younger brother automatically brought out his arms and took hold of the infant.

Dick nodded in approval. "Tim, meet Dusty. Dusty, this is your Uncle Tim."

Tim glanced up sharply. "Wait, Uncle? Who's-?"

Dick was still grinning when Tim figured it out. His pale blue eyes darted to the baby, then back to Dick, and the eldest could pinpoint exactly when his younger brother's head stopped working.

He grinned wider. The third Robin had a reputation as being more of a detective than the others, thanks to his skill of mentally compartmentalizing his emotions. Tim had been accused of being as emotionless as a machine at times. And honestly, if Tim had been a computer, Dick wouldn't be surprised if his younger brother suddenly spouted, "Error. Error. Does not compute." Which would then be followed by a Blue Screen of Death.

"W-who...what...when...?"

"Just a couple of days ago." Dick said proudly. Then he rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, that's when I first met Dusty."

"T-two days?" Tim sputtered.

"Hey, Cheyenne didn't tell me about him until the day before yesterday!"

Tim's stunned expression cleared at the name. "Cheyenne Freemont."

Dick nodded. Of course, Tim knew who he was talking about. He had added the profiles of some of the metas he'd met into the Crays, just in case.

"And she left Dusty to you?"

Dick nodded again. "She was afraid someone's after him."

Tim's eyes narrowed, his expression becoming thoughtful. Dick knew that meant his younger brother was considering everything about the situation: from Dusty's mother, to Dick's calling him, their past connections, to recent news.

"The Pierce brothers had Cheyenne killed." Tim concluded.

"If we can prove it."

This time, it was Tim's turn to nod and he headed for the Bunker. "What's Oracle working on?"

Dick knew what that meant: what have you got and what other help do you need? Years of working together had given both brothers a mental dictionary on how to read the other. So the new Batman gave him a quick rundown of what they currently had. "Babs is tracing Pierce's paper trail. I've got the Crays working on facial recognition to find the girl posing as Trish Edgwood. I've also got the police looking into Barry Pierce as a suspect."

"That's not much," Tim observed, but his comment was cut off by a tiny beep on Dick's wrist.

Dick glanced down, quickly reading the Crays' results from its remote access on his wrist. And when he looked back up, he was grinning like he had won the Olympics. "Let's move this to the Bunker, little brother. We just got our match."

* * *

><p>Her name was Bernie Kaswell. She was an intern working for another fashion design company when her contract ended at almost the same time as Cheyenne hired her. Her salary was modest, her family quiet, her life unremarkable.<p>

Except for the fact that she was said to be dating Buddy Pierce.

"Yeah, the big, blond guy who got two brain cells between his ears and nothin' else," said the company secretary when she came to clean out her workplace the next day. Cheyenne's former office was filled with rumors and gossip about the late designer; gossip that included both her long-time assistant: Trish "Ms. Coffee Queen" Edgwood and her newest recruit: Bernie "Farm Girl" Kaswell.

"Farm girl's been seeing this doofus for weeks." The secretary continued. "Comes in every day, making sweet talk with her. Then right after the boss...you know... neither of them has been around. Farm Girl hasn't been coming in to work even if just to clean out her stuff. And she was the last one with the boss. You'd think the cops'd know to look for her too."

"But all they're looking for is the Coffee Queen, right?"

"I hear they found her. That she was in her apartment all along."

" 'Course she is! She's been out with the flu!"

"Then why're the cops looking for her and not Farm Girl?"

"Maybe the cops are idiots."

_Or they were simply misled_. Red Robin thought as he silently left Cheyenne's office, a mere shadow among the shadows. He'd been searching for information on Bernie Kaswell among the company files when the secretaries came passing by. He jumped and hid himself in the ceiling rafters, patiently listening to the secretaries until it was safe for him to leave.

He'd already got what he came for, earlier.

"Red Robin to Batman."

"_Batman here._"

"I have an address."

"_That's great. I'll..._" There was another voice murmuring in the background. Tim couldn't understand what was being said and the voice was too low for him to recognize. Then there was a brief moment of static.

"Batman?"

No answer.

"Dick?"

When his brother's voice came back on, it was apologetic and rushed. "_Tim, I need you to follow up on that address._"

Tim was all at once curious; usually Dick wouldn't let anyone else follow up on a lead if he could go himself. "What happened?"

Another pause, and then a reluctant sounding, "_Dusty threw up on the suit._"

Tim nearly dropped the comms. "Did you say what I think you just said?"

"_Tim, this is serious! Dusty might be sick! Babies don't normally throw up all the time!_"

"Dick, maybe it's-"

"_Damian, it's not funny!_"

"Dick-"

That's when he heard it, the high-pitched screaming of an upset baby. It was teeny sounding, filtered through the comms, and Tim could only imagine how ear-piercing it must be in person. He didn't envy Dick at that moment.

"_Tim?_"

"Still here."

"_I'll have to get back to you. Check the address!_"

Tim sighed and sent out an acknowledgement before Red Robin swung away.


	15. Chapter 15

Bernie Kaswell's apartment building was on the other side of the scale compared to that of Trish Edgwood's.

Whereas Trish's place had been in a spacious high-rise, the complex itself consisted of many other homes as well. While Bernie's was a modest brown brick building about three stories tall and, judging by the exterior, the inside wasn't very large.

After speaking with Batman, Red Robin had surveyed her place from the building across the street.

He'd already found out which apartment was Kaswell's; which window to look into tonight. And from what he'd seen, things were as quiet as they had been when he had looked at Trish's. But the small differences such as the car registered to her - a gift from Buddy, apparently - was not in it's assigned spot, and Bernie liked to leave the lights on in her apartment.

Still, he expected to find dishes soaking or drying in the sink, not cleared away and waiting for the next use. And he'd also expected the closet door shut, not wide open and half empty as though someone had cleared out days earlier.

Red Robin lowered his binocs and moved back down to his cycle and the duffel bag he'd brought. Surveilling a residential building almost always involved having to go undercover so Tim had prepared a couple changes of clothes and stashed them in the bag. He was already mentally cycling through his personas as he pulled out one article of clothing after another. And when he was done, Alvin Draper sauntered over to the building like he owned the place.

The landlady's apartment was just by the entrance to the building. In addition to his earlier research, Tim had found the landlady's place so it was a simple matter for Alvin Draper to knock on the door and dazzle the old woman with his most charming grin. He claimed to be an old friend of Bernie's, come to hang out and catch up with her but when he had knocked on her door, no one had answered.

"Oh. I haven't seen hide nor hair of her for a few days, Mr. Draper." the old woman admitted. "I assume she and that boyfriend of hers went on vacation"

"Boyfriend?" Alvin asked.

"Yes, that big, blond man. I think she called him Buddy."

The young man kept his disappointment to himself and gave her another bright smile. "Well, thanks anyway. Have a nice day."

He walked away, the old woman's door closing with a creak. He made his way back to the alley where his gear was stashed and quickly redonned Red Robin's cowl. Bernie Kaswell's apartment was a dead end. If there's a chance for him to catch either her or Buddy Pierce, he'll have to check into other locations they were known to be in, or locations where they might go to.

On the run from the cops, no job, no home, with a boyfriend who'll soon become the prime suspect in a murder case, and a lot of money coming from said boyfriend, where's a girl to go?

Red Robin landed on the rooftop of a condominium, pausing to mull over what he had just thought. Did Bernie _know_ about Buddy's criminal habits? Did she even know about his being a meta?

If they were a honest couple, Buddy should have told her; that is, if they wanted a chance at 'forever.' Tim would know, it was one of the most difficult problems he'd had as a teenage superhero, right next to figuring out the best excuse to give his parents during emergencies. But he's a superhero, not a criminal. In his experience, criminals could go either way.

So, based on Buddy's previous relationships: was he the honest, bring-home-to-the-parents type or the rebellious, I've-got-a-secret-and-I'll-never-tell-you type? What else did Dick tell him about Buddy Pierce...?

_His older brother._

The idea hit him with a flash. For someone like Buddy, his older brother would be his first priority; any girlfriends would simply be a close second. So no, he wouldn't have told Bernie about his being a meta and a criminal. In fact, with the heat on them and the brothers' need to protect themselves, Tim expected Buddy to break up with Bernie and run to ground, thereby leaving Bernie to face the cops alone. Which would then leave only a couple of places possible for a girl hiding from the law to go: the train or the bus station. Maybe even the airport.

Red Robin launched another jumpline and headed back to his bike. Without any alternative identification, Bernie would have to use her real name to register in any passenger list. After all, the police would be having a difficult time tracing her name with just her face to go on. Crime labs don't have equipment as efficient as the Crays. And he could easily hack into the stations' systems for passenger lists. If he couldn't, Oracle could.

In the end though, he didn't have to hack much. He found her at a bus stop to Metropolis. The bus was running late and she looked like she'd been waiting for it for a long time. This time of night didn't have a lot of travellers so Tim decided to confront her in his uniform.

She was as Dick described her: a pale brunette with a butterfly tattoo on her collarbone. Her tired, dark eyes stared in the direction where the bus would be coming from, her hands clutching an overnight bag on her lap. The bleak expression on her face simply stated that the world had suddenly turned on her and she had no other recourse but to give up. Tim couldn't blame her. He'd felt that way too, when Superman came into the Cave bearing a corpse that resembled Bruce's...and then Dick decided to keep the demon child as his Robin.

He didn't understand it. Why would his older brother pick the snotty _prince_ over him? He'd been Robin for years and had already proven himself! And why wouldn't Dick or Alfred believe him when he said Bruce wasn't dead? Didn't they want to consider that there might be a chance Bruce could come back?

Tim clamped down on his runaway thoughts. He'd think about them later, when he'd finished this favor for Dick.

"Bernie Kaswell?"

Bernie looked up with the slow movements of an exhausted person. She must have felt resigned to her fate when she realized who it was facing her because she just sighed wearily and returned to staring into space. "Suppose I know why you're here."

"I'm looking for Buddy Pierce." Red Robin answered quietly.

Bernie snorted and waved a hand in dismissal. "Can't help you there. He took off after his brother and went G-d knows where."

"Did he give any hint as to where they might be going?"

She rolled her eyes and shot him a glare. "Look, _hero_, I already told you he went with his _brother_ to hide in their cozy little hole; leaving me, his _loving girlfriend_, to face the cops alone right after I gave him what he wanted." She scoffed. "Men. Only looking to use gullible girls and snubbing them after."

Tim paused in his interrogation and tried another tactic. A direct approach doesn't work for someone at the end of their rope. "I'm sorry this happened to you-"

Bernie interrupted him with a look. "You got any clout with the cops?"

He blinked at the suddenness of the question. "I..."

"'Course you should. You're a hero." She muttered more to herself than to him. Her bus still hadn't arrived yet and Tim silently waited with her, deciding that if he couldn't get her to answer his questions, maybe she'll decide to just talk if she knew there was someone willing to lend an ear.

Finally, she sighed again and broke the silence. "Alright, hero, you win. I'm no good running from the law. Not when I'm dead broke and can't show my face to get my paycheck." She stood up and raised her shattered brown eyes to meet his. Even with only a couple of streetlights illuminating her face, Tim could see her tears brimming. "They won't toss me to the dogs, will they? I haven't killed anyone, really. It was all Buddy's idea."

Tim inwardly stilled. This was it. This was the evidence Dick was looking for to pin the murder charge on Buddy Pierce. If Bernie agreed to testify against her ex...

Tim schooled his expression not to reveal his eagerness. He couldn't afford to spook Bernie, not if he wanted her to testify. If he played this right, he might be able to convince her to do so in exchange for a lighter sentence. But he had to know that there were grounds for her to take the deal. He had to know more.

He took her hand and tugged her back to the bench she'd been sitting on, taking a seat himself beside her. "Tell me everything." 


	16. Chapter 16

Bernie had met Buddy at a coffee shop near Cheyenne's workplace. She was on a coffee run, frantic with trying to remember her co-workers' orders, when he stepped into line right in front of her. Her temper frayed and she icily told him that she never invited him to cut in and that he ought to go all the way to the back of the line if he wanted to get his coffee.

He turned slowly to snarl at her but she didn't let his size intimidate her. She was in a rush and he wasn't and if he didn't get out of her way, she'd lose her job and she'll sue him for being a stubborn ass. The coffee shop was rapidly growing quiet as people turned to stare. With so much attention on her, Bernie wanted to flee right then, but her mind kept going through all the coffee drinks she'd memorized and she wasn't backing down.

Then Barry Pierce showed up.

A quick whispered exchange, and Buddy was mumbling 'sorry' to her as he moved off with his brother to the back of the line. Tense moment done, Bernie gave her orders to the barista and managed to run back to the studio just in time for the next fitting.

The next day, she found Buddy in the coffee shop again and this time, she wasn't in a hurry. So she went up to him and apologized for losing her temper. He was surprised at first, but he returned her apology with an offer to talk; they'd been drinking coffee and talking at least once every day after that.

"I didn't know Barry had been watching me that first day," Bernie admitted. "He must have seen me come out of the studio and run to the coffee shop. It must be why he stepped in to stop Buddy from punching me out."

"Why would you believe that?" Red Robin asked.

"Because Barry's been looking to get back at Cheyenne for months." She snorted. "Whenever Buddy and I talked, he'd always ask about Cheyenne. If she was a slave driver at work. Whether she was seeing someone. Buddy said it was because he was looking to match her and his brother together; that they were childhood friends who haven't seen each other in a while." She shook her head. "I must have been an idiot to believe them."

"The Pierce brothers are masters at manipulating people." Tim offered, but it was a weak comfort and they both knew it.

Bernie shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I believed him and that was that. I told him what he wanted to know. But everything I told him was pretty unimportant. And then..." Her voice broke. A teardrop fell to splatter her clenched fists. Tim wanted to pat her shoulder or something similarly awkward (Dick had always known what to do in situations like this, not him) but she wasn't done. She took a deep breath and continued, "and then Trish got sick.

"She and Cheyenne were close; they'd been working together for years. When Trish called to say she was sick, Cheyenne went out and bought her pastries from Trish's favourite bakery. She was supposed to drop them at Trish's place, grab some designs Trish had been working on, then come back to work. Only..."

"Only...?" Red Robin prompted.

"Only Cheyenne came back white-faced and breathless. She didn't even have Trish's designs. The moment she went in her office, she called me and told me to help her pack. Then she announced that she was going out of town for a few days to meet with a client. I was also told to pack my things and to go with her."

"And you came to Gotham."

Bernie nodded. "We stayed in the Red Crescent for two days. I'd been calling Buddy off and on for the whole trip just to talk. He knew where we were. And he said he'd come by to see me in Gotham while Cheyenne was off meeting with her client.

"But there was no client. She just came to Gotham to meet with this guy, Dick Grayson."

"Bruce Wayne's adopted son." Tim supplied nonchalantly. Dick had pretty much told him the same thing, only from his point of view.

Bernie nodded again. "He was all she came to Gotham for. As soon as they met up, she packed up again and started going back to California."

Tim frowned. He figured that must be when Cheyenne gave Dusty to Dick. But something in how Bernie said the last part had him asking, "You weren't going back with her, were you?"

Bernie shook her head and her shoulders, straight while she was talking, now slumped in misery. "Buddy had called and said he was coming to Gotham. I didn't want to ask him to turn back around so I asked Cheyenne if I could stay here for an extra day or two before going back. She agreed and I stayed at the Crescent."

"And you met up with Buddy?"

"Sure. Buddy came and we went out for dinner that night. The next day, I was on my way back to California alone while he stayed to finish some business."

"And when did the police interview...?"

"After dinner, when I went back to the hotel. There were a couple of cops waiting for me."

"What happened to Buddy?"

"He left as soon as he saw them. I didn't think much of it at first, and I was too surprised to find cops wanting to talk to me so when one of them asked if I was Trish Edgwood, I didn't think to correct him. And then they told me about the accident..." she trailed off, her eyes unfocused as she rehashed her memories.

"When did you know it wasn't an accident?"

"In the news. When I just got back to California." She dropped her gaze and said brokenly, "I asked Buddy about it and he said it wasn't anything. But when I came in early for work the next day, I overheard some of the cutters saying Buddy and his brother were suspects."

"They are." Red Robin confirmed with a nod.

The tears that had been collecting in Bernie's eyes now fell down her cheeks in a torrent. "I-I've been an idiot!"

Tim's thoughts fled at the sight of her tears and he immediately started trying to comfort her - he didn't want to attract any more attention than he did with his uniform out in public. "Easy, easy. You couldn't have known..."

"But I should have!" she choked on a sob and suddenly she was clutching at his arms, her face desperate. "I started putting everything together that morning. Buddy never said where he was coming from while I was in Gotham, nor did he say when he arrived. But I thought I'd seen him hanging around the Crescent hours before we went out to date!"

"It's possible he came early to arrange..."

She shook her head vigorously. "No, you don't get it! If Buddy had been at the hotel before Cheyenne left, he would have seen the baby! He knows about Cheyenne's baby!"


	17. Chapter 17

Dick didn't know what to do. It was a constant companion, the feeling of being adrift with nowhere to go. As Robin, as Nightwing, he was oftentimes hanging on a trapeze bar without seeing the next one. And he didn't mind it much. But as Batman, that feeling was non-negotiable. Batman was the World's Greatest Detective, Gotham's main protector, the Justice League's hidden mastermind; Batman can't afford to be lost.

But Dick can't help it.

The high-pitched wails echoed throughout the makeshift nursery, and no amount of coddling could make it stop. Dick had asked Leslie if she could check on Dusty but their long-time doctor doesn't specialize in treating children. She recommended a friend of hers and Alfred offered to fetch the pediatrician.

That left three people designated to watch over the baby: Babs, who was busy trying to find the Pierce brothers; Damian, who had closeted himself in his room when the baby's crying hadn't abated after ten minutes; and Dick, who had Dusty in one arm and frantically rocked him or made funny faces or cooed at him all to no avail.

The new father was rapidly becoming deaf from Dusty's cries. And even though he kept up a reassuring voice, he inwardly bemoaned the fact that everyone else left him to soothe his son - and he had ran out of ideas on how to do so.

"Grayson!" Damian's voice somehow ran right over the baby's wailing. "Have you not silenced your spawn yet?"

"It's not as easy as you'd think!" Dick protested, still rocking Dusty. "I've tried everything! Nothing's working!"

If his younger brother made his customary clicking noise, Dick didn't hear it. But he did notice when his son suddenly disappeared from his arms.

"Dus...ty...?"

Damian was now holding up the baby...and blowing raspberries on Dusty's stomach.

The baby's wailing quickly changed into delighted shrieks.

Dick stared at the image of his youngest brother playing with his son for a moment. And then like a relaxing massage, the eldest Wayne brother felt his worry fade away. His lips quirked up; Dusty's laugh was highly contagious.

Then the moment was broken by the doorbell.

"I'll get that," Dick told his brother, already running for the front door, "you keep Dusty occupied."

He only half-heard Damian's 'T-t' as he raced to answer the bell. When he got there, the sight of a detective's badge being flashed through the peephole threw him for a loop.

"Mr. Wayne?" The familiar voice called through the door. "It's Detective Radley. I'm here with Detective Sanders about Ms. Freemont's case. May we come in?"

"Hold on," Dick called back, and cautiously unlocked the highly secured door. He made sure to step back after opening the door, keeping a little distance between himself and the visitors - a precaution that was a tough lesson Bruce instilled in all his Robins. Even though he was supposed to trust the cops in his civilian persona, Dick just couldn't chance it. He had a baby in the penthouse now, _his baby_, and there was absolutely no way he'd let Dusty come to harm.

But as soon as he opened the door, the two officers derailed his precautions.

The blond known as Det. Sanders barged past Dick and went straight to the windows, drawing the curtains closed as Det. Radley explained apologetically, "Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Grayson, but we have an update on Ms. Freemont's case-"

"Is there anyone else here with you?" Det. Sanders cut in. He had just finished closing the curtains in the penthouse hallway.

"Just my younger brother and the baby." Dick answered, pretending to be puzzled though his mind churned with possible reasons why two of Gotham's finest would drop by out of the blue, cover the windows, and demand to know if there were other people in the area. At that moment, he could think of two reasons, one of which is so absurd that he decided the other must be plausible - and it was a thought that quickly set his mind into a panic.

"They know, don't they...?" He asked Radley, his heart beginning to pound.

When the detective nodded, it was all he could do _not _to run into his son's room and startling both Damian and Dusty. He was not going to cause unnecessary panic in his own home.

"We have two officers on stakeout outside the building," Radley continued, heedless of Dick's internal panic. "They will be on rotating shifts watching for the Pierce brothers twenty four hours, but we'll have to move you and the rest of your family to a safehouse-"

"What safehouse?" Damian's voice startled the two cops. But Dick had already known his delay in returning to Dusty had made his brother suspicious so he wasn't surprised when the youngest Wayne decided to see what was the matter.

"Detectives Radley and Sanders wanted to put us in a safehouse." Dick explained, noting that Damian was still carrying Dusty. His son must have really grown on the little prince.

"Ridiculous." Damian said as indifferent as though he was talking about the weather. "The penthouse is one of the most secure facilities on this planet. I highly doubt a civilian police safehouse is any safer than this."

Both detectives stared at Damian.

"How old is this kid...?" Det. Sanders muttered to his fellow cop.

"He's ten." Dick answered with a slight smirk. "Though, he likes to think he's sixteen."

"I'm right here, and I can hear you well enough, Grayson." Came the irritated rejoinder.

"Still, Damian's right," Dick continued, ignoring his brother's remark. "The building and the penthouse was built with the best security Bru- my adoptive father could buy." Even though he'd been adopted years past, Dick just couldn't seem to call him 'father'. Bruce had always been 'Bruce' to him.

"Your living here makes you an obvious target for the Pierce brothers, Mr. Grayson." Det. Radley offered. "We have to assume that Barry Pierce will be coming after your son."

As if on cue, Dusty suddenly squealed and reached for Dick who quickly scooped him up from Damian's arms. The baby squealed again and started making bubbles, his tiny arms flailing on Dick's shoulders.

"That him?" Det. Radley looked bemused at the image of father and son together.

"Of course it is. Do you see other infants in this house?" Damian snapped.

The slight smile on the cop's face disappeared, replaced by a frown.

"Damian." Dick said in his almost-Batman voice. It was a signal that he was brooking no arguments. His youngest brother crossed his arms and kept silent. Dick turned an apologetic grin to the cops. "Sorry about that. Dami's...he's not having the best couple of days lately."

"For what, figuring out how to be an uncle at ten?" Sanders snorted, drawing a scathing gaze from said 'uncle' and a warning look from Radley. "Never mind. We still have to put you under protective custody, Mr. Wayne-"

"It's Grayson," both Dick and Radley corrected, the cop nodding to the former acrobat.

"I'm sorry," Dick continued. "But we'd rather not move to a safehouse if it can be helped..."

"This isn't a negotiation-" Sanders argued but Radley put a hand on the other cop's shoulder.

"We can leave a couple of guys to watch the place round the clock." Radley offered. Sanders glared at him but he ignored it. "And we'll send one or two plainclothes to stay with you-"

"No." Damian said with finality.

The boy's answer brought the detective up short. " 'No?'"

"No safehouses, and no bodyguards." Damian repeated. "I will agree to the officers on stakeout but only if they remain outside the building."

The little prince's condescending tone was the last straw for Sanders. He immediately stepped forward to bring his face close to the boy's even though Damian didn't look the least bit intimidated, "Look here, you. You're _ten years old_. You're a minor. You don't get to make the decisions here, no matter what you _think _you are. So why don't you go back to your matchbox cars and leave this discussion to the adults?"

"Sanders!" Radley barked. "We're not here to incense potential victims."

Sanders snorted, straightening to face the other cop. "The kid's not a potential victim. He's an add-on! You told me yourself the only targets are the baby and maybe the baby's _dad_. That makes only _two people _we have to protect."

"I'm going to have to agree with my brother on this one." Dick stated, moving to stand between said brother and the angry detective. "Plainclothes outside is fine, but no officers inside."

Sanders looked at him with something that resembled disgust. "I can't believe you. You can't seriously be listening to a little_ boy_, can you?"

He gave the cop his mildest Bat-glare - which was still a glare by any other means. "I can, when the boy's being more reasonable than anyone else at the moment."

" 'Reasonable?'" The cop sputtered. "How can not wanting protection-"

"Sanders, that's enough." Radley's voice was quiet. Maybe not deadly quiet but his voice held the tone of authority Dick often used when he commanded his friends and fellow capes to do as he wanted - as he _needed _doing. It was the same tone Bruce resorted to whenever he wanted to be heard over the protests and mutterings of his execs. To hear a commonplace cop use it, well, it sent a pang right to Dick's heart where he kept his fondest memories of his adoptive father.

It was both nostalgic and painful; that everywhere he looked, all three of his parents were there. He missed Bruce.

Radley faced Dick, his hands halfway up in a 'calm down' gesture. "I'm sorry for my partner's assertion, Mr. Grayson. We've uh...had a similar case before and it's been bugging him ever since."

Dick lowered his arms. He understood how that was, what it felt like when you'd failed to save someone even if you'd gone one hundred and ten percent. It rankled back when he was nine and just starting out as Robin, and it rankled until now as Batman. "I take it things didn't go so well?"

The detective winced. "It was...very bad."

"They refused police protection too," Sanders cut in. "And it got them killed."

"Sanders, I told you-" Radley was exasperated but Dick interrupted him.

"No, it's alright. I know how it is. I was a cop too."

Both detectives raised an eyebrow.

"Look, I know this must be frustrating for you," Dick sighed and started to scratch the back of his neck when he realized he still held Dusty. He dropped his hand halfway through the gesture. "But I really insist. We'll agree to the watchers outside, but no more."

Sanders once again looked like he would protest, but a silencing hand from the other detective put an end to it.

"Alright Mister Grayson. No officers inside." Radley agreed, albeit reluctantly.

The eldest Wayne gave the two other men an easy grin. "Thank you, Detective."

Damian was still sullen as Dick led the two cops to the door. When they had left, the first thing he did was take Dusty from him.

"You sent Drake to follow after the case." The newest Robin stated haughtily. "If he's any good, he would have more information than those two imbeciles from the precinct. The fact that they had more progress than we did offends me."

"Hey hey, don't belittle Tim's detective skills." Dick objected. "He's just as good, if not more so, than I am."

Damian clicked his tongue again. "No, _you _are Batman. The World's Greatest Detective. A former Robin being better than Batman is absurd." He huffed condescendingly and turned to head back to Dusty's room. "You need to call Drake and ask him _why _he withheld information from you."

The eldest brother blinked at the younger's retreating back. His mind churned with the implications of what Damian said, of what Tim _didn't _do. But all that came out of his mouth was, "But...I'm a former Robin too..."


	18. Chapter 18

Minutes later though, he was calling his younger brother on the comms. The device beeped several times before Red Robin answered in a breathless voice as though he'd just finished a fight. "_Red Robin_."

"Hey Tim," Dick leaned back on the couch he'd dropped into, feeling like the world was closing in on him again. "You know, something funny just happened a couple of minutes ago. We got a visit from Gotham's finest and they wanted to put me, Dusty and Damian under house arrest."

"..._And_?"

"And, I'd like to know why you didn't tell me that Buddy knows about Dusty."

"_I just found out an hour ago._"

Dick raised an eyebrow in surprise. He didn't think GCPD could act that fast. "That's still sixty minutes, Tim. It takes less than two to call in and give me a heads up."

"_Been busy chasing after a metahuman ghost who may or may not explode._"

"It would've helped if I knew about the visit beforehand so I could keep the princeling from flaying the boys in blue."

Silence on the other end, before a sarcastic, "_Sorry._"

"Sorry for not telling me or sorry for siccing me with the prince?"

"_Sorry for the cops being flayed. I can't be sorry for the demon child; you've made your choice months ago, you handle the consequences._"

Dick sighed and ran his hand through his hair. It was obvious his younger brother still hadn't gotten over their last argument. "Tim, you know it's not like I kicked you out-"

"_Barry's in my sights. Later._"

"Tim-"

The comms cut off. Dick exhaled slowly, tilting his head back on the couch and wrapping an arm around his eyes. Now, not only was he hanging on a trapeze with nowhere to go, he could feel a gunman arming a rifle below him, ready to shoot the lone acrobat. If he let go, the fall could break his bones. But if he stayed hanging, the shooter could kill him. Either way, he'll lose.

Like the whole situation with his brothers.

No matter how much he tried to make the two get along, one would always antagonize the other. He'd already managed to keep more bloodshed from happening, but he still wasn't able to keep his two younger brothers from exchanging heated words or the occasional fists. And he can't side with one without alienating the other.

Then there was also Dusty; and with him, a whole plethora of other problems. He and Babs still hadn't patched up their issues - it felt more like a temporary band-aid than a real patch. Alfred was also after him to spend time with Dusty. And the Pierce brothers are now targeting his son.

_How did Bruce do it_?

His adoptive father could juggle an idiot public persona as an eccentric billionaire, an incredible tactician for the most powerful superhero team in the world, and the most brilliant detective for the dark city of Gotham. Yet somehow, the man managed to spare a day or two for his adopted kids starting with yours truly. Sure, those days were few and far between but they still happened and they were all the more cherished for their rarity.

It was obvious Bruce eventually chose the job over his familial or social relationships. Would Dick have to do as Bruce did? Sacrifice family and social time for the work?

Dick shook his head. He couldn't do that. He couldn't just abandon his friends from the Titans, the League, the Outsiders; and he could never abandon his family. His parents had been taken from him early on and he'd never do that to anyone, especially not to his son. Would it have been better if he took up the cops on their offer of protection?

His comms beeped. "_Red Robin to Batman. Dick! Answer me!_"

Dick fumbled for the device. He'd unconsciously dropped it when he leaned back on the couch. "Tim, what's wrong?"

"_I just got Barry Pierce to confess. He's already sent the assassin. I repeat, the assassin's on his way to Wayne Towers!_"

There was no stopping Dick this time from speeding to Dusty's room.

-17

Damian was still with Dusty when he burst into the room - Dick thanked whomever that his youngest brother was there so he didn't have to search for him and so that Dusty actually had a Robin-trained sitter in the vicinity. Trained or not, both boys were startled when the door banged open and Dick's panicked outlook appeared.

"Grays-"

The new Batman barely let his brother finish before he was ushering them both out of the room - and its large picturesque window. The moment Dick turned to face the door though, they all heard the dull crack behind him.

Both he and Damian ducked, scrambling out the door.

"The bunker, Damian!" Dick ordered, heart pounding. "Go!"

The newest Robin tucked the wailing baby under his chin, running towards the hidden passageway that would take them to the Bat-Bunker. Dick was glad the Bunker's architect made the route to the secret door entirely free of windows. It made the job of tracking them from outside the budiling that much harder for the assassin.

That still left everyone else outside the penthouse.

Dick paused before entering the study - the fire alarm was right beside him and he took a couple of seconds to smash the protective glass case to pull the lever. Klazons sounded throughout the penthouse and Dick rushed for the Bunker.

Now if all goes well, the two cops stationed outside should come running in, an alert would be reported to the dispatcher which would then bring the detectives' attention back toe the Towers, and maybe even Tim's. Because trapped as they were inside the penthouse, Dick nor Damian couldn't change and go out as Batman and Robin in less than five minutes. Who knows what could happen in those five minutes with the assassin outside?

But Red Robin was already on the way, and Dick had to have faith that his younger brother would arrive sometime within those five minutes and take care of the assassin, solo.

Babs met them on the entry way. "The Crays has been blinking like crazy for the past minute. What's going on?"

"Assassin." Damian growled, running past her to place the baby in the playpen Alfred had brought in earlier. Dick wondered if it was a good thing Alfred beat the Boy Scouts for preparedness or a bad thing that the butler had to put a playpen in the Bat-Bunker. Paranoia runs rampant in the Batclan.

"I've got remote cameras picking up the assassin from the Kensley Building." Babs called out. She'd wheeled back to the monitor as soon as Dick and Damian went past. "Looks like he's armed with a high-caliber rifle."

"Tank-piercing bullets." Dick told her, already wearing the lower half of the Batsuit and was just now pulling on the upper half. To his left, Damian was tying his boot laces. "One punched right through the bulletproof windows."

"Red Robin's on the scene."

Batman paused from pulling up the cowl, turning to Oracle and the Crays. "Can he handle the sniper?"

Babs took a couple of seconds before answering, her hands busy typing commands - probably to check other camera angles, "Looks like one lone sniper..."

Dick could almost feel his hopes rise.

"...armed with a lot of expensive toys."

Damn. _Good luck, little brother_.


	19. Chapter 19

He found the assassin still at the Kensley Building, fiddling with some sort of tracker. The sniper was aiming the antenna at Wayne Towers, carefully sweeping it from side to side in a methodical manner. Tim guessed that Dick had heeded his warning and taken the others to the Bunker, and the assassin had no idea where they went.

But with the tracker, it was only a matter of time before he discovers the hidden passage from the penthouse to the Bunker. Tim couldn't let that happen.

Red Robin was still at the other end of the rooftop so he flung a batarang to knock the device away. From then on, he had less than a second to reach the assassin -

- but the sniper quickly pulled a gun from his hip and started shooting. He froze for half a second before diving behind a protruding air duct as bullets rained around him.

There was a pause as soon as he reached cover. He grabbed a couple of batarangs and held them at the ready. He couldn't see the sniper from behind the duct. And this high up, the wind carried away any sound the sniper made. He wouldn't be able to hear the sniper until it was too late.

The brief glint of light drew his attention to the next building. He set his cowl to zoom in on the flash and recognized a hovering camera. He reached up to his earpiece. "Oracle, do you read?"

"_Loud and clear, RR._"

"What's the status of the assassin?"

"_To your right and about to turn the corner in three seconds._"

"Got it." Red Robin quickly rounded the duct counter-clockwise. He extended his staff and was just in time to step behind the assassin - a half-second after the sniper discovered him missing.

Using his left, he struck at the assassin's head and legs in succession. He switched to his right and whacked the gun out of the sniper's hand even before the man hit the ground. Another quick thump to the man's temple and he was out.

"Assassin taken out, O_._"

"_Copy that. Good work, RR._"

"Is everyone ok? The baby?"

"Other than screaming his lungs out," a voice said behind him. Tim whirled to find Batman smiling at him. "Dusty's fine."

Tim sighed in relief. "I thought I might be too late."

"Your warning came just in time." Batman strode forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks, little brother."

"He's my nephew too, you know." Tim gave a hesitant smile. "I couldn't let anything happen to my first nephew."

Dick's smile turned into a grin.

On the ground, the assassin groaned and started getting up. Dick swiftly kicked him unconscious again.

* * *

><p>The two detectives were mostly glad the case was over, the perpetrators on their way to being locked up, and no one else had died. Batman and Red Robin managed a quick change into civvies before meeting with the two cops - Radley and Sanders had come rushing back to the Towers as soon as the dispatcher called for backup. The detectives were the first to arrive at a scene of a classic Batman-esque arrest: the assassin was neatly tied to a lamppost and no one had seen anything.<p>

Sanders wasn't happy that the vigilantes were taking over decent police work, but he admitted in a whisper that he was glad there was one vigilante watching out for new fathers and their little boys. Radley could only smile and nod before turning to shake hands with the Wayne heirs.

"Let me give you a tip, Mr. Grayson," Radley said, "as one father to another: Rock and swing. Sometimes, even singing helps."

Dick stared at him for a moment. And then, "that's it?"

The detective nodded. "That's it. You love your kid. Can hardly go wrong if you truly care about him." Radley grinned and set off towards his car where Sanders was already waiting, "trust me, you'll do fine."

"I'll take your word for it." Dick called after him and watched until the cops' car was gone from sight.

Damian grumbled when Dick and Tim came back to the Bunker after talking to the cops. Dick knew he didn't like being kept inside to guard the baby, and he liked it even less that Tim managed to take care of the assassin single-handedly. But the eldest brother simply crouched down to his eyelevel and said, "I trusted you to protect Dusty in case something happened. It's part of being an uncle."

And as Dick predicted, his youngest brother gave his customary "T-t," and left. Dick smiled to himself as he watched his younger brother go. It was a simple tactic of appealing to Damian's need to be trusted by stressing that protecting Dusty was more important than taking down the assassin. Now Damian couldn't argue that he was being coddled. After all, Bruce had done the same to Dick years ago.

The eldest Wayne brother headed next for the playpen and bent down to pick up his flailing son. Blue eyes frowned at him in concentration before grabbing at the fingers he proffered, pulling them into a tiny mouth. Dick smiled and pulled back, resulting in father and son having a mild tug-of-war between them.

"We'll make it, Dusty," he promised the wiggling bundle in his arms. "Somehow, we'll make it."


	20. Chapter 20

Note: This was mostly because I just couldn't resist. Heh.

* * *

><p>Epilogue:<p>

-  
>A few years later, the smoke alarm in Dusty's room wailed like a screaming lunatic, shattering the silence that was their family dinner. Dick was on his feet and rushing for his son in an instant, Bruce just a second after him - he'd come back years earlier, and was just as surprised as everyone when he came home to find he was now a grandfather. But after all the teasing was done, he'd sat Dick down during a quiet moment and told his son how proud he was. But that was another story.<p>

For now though, all the men (and boy) of Wayne Manor stood gaping at what they found in Dusty's room: smoke curling upwards and inciting the alarm, a nest of scorched blankets and burnt playthings. And somewhere in the middle of the wreckage, Dusty stared at them with wide blue eyes, completely unharmed.

"Dusty!" Dick cried, immediately scooping up the toddler. "You're not hurt?"

The toddler shook his head, still too frightened to speak. His small mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. Tears started forming in the corners of his eyes and Dick hugged him close, murmuring soothing words just as he used to do when Dusty was a baby.

"What happened?" Bruce demanded, making the child cling tighter to his father.

"I think I have an idea..." Tim said slowly, his eyes cataloguing the damage. At Bruce's prompt, he looked to his older brother and explained, "Dick, you said Cheyenne was a meta, right?"

The eldest Wayne brother stared at him, then at his son, and finally, his eyes went to Bruce. "Oh crap."


End file.
